Business and Pleasure
by uncorazonquebrado
Summary: Blair Waldorf doesn't believe in mixing business with pleasure, Chuck Bass makes his living out of it. Very AU, but still very much a CB fic
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N** _

_This is very AU. VERY AU. I borrowed the basic plot from the movie "the Wedding Date". There will be things that differ from the plot of the movie though, and some things will be a lot different._

_I'm really not that sure about posting this, but I kinda like how it turned out, so I figured I'd give it a try :) Please let me know what you think of it!_

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gossip Girl or the Wedding Date._

_This is un-beta'd, I apologize in advance for any mistakes_

* * *

Slamming the door of her cobalt blue Mercedes shut, Blair couldn't hold back a smile when she heard the distinct sound of the power door lock. The car had been her way of treating herself to something special in celebration of her promotion six months prior. It was classy and feminine and she had fallen in love with it the first time she saw it.

The sound of her heels echoed on the street as she walked across the sidewalk and up the front stairs of her Potrero Hill home. She had bought the hillside villa during her first week in San Francisco, having decided that if she really was to live outside of Manhattan, she would live in style. Blair Waldorf, fashion editor of the most popular fashion magazines in California, and one of the best-selling in the whole country, doesn't do things half-heartedly. Two years with the publication house and she had already seen the magazine change from being a decent selling publication to the must-read for any 18-35 year-old woman with an interest in fashion and styling.

The sound of her keys as she unlocked her front door also had a smile lacing her features. She adored her beautiful home, her own personal sanctuary. God knows she could use the peace and quiet after the day that she had had. Today had involved drama that far exceeded the acceptable quota. Paul, the latest guy in the group of well-educated, successful and charming men she had made a habit out of wining and dining - but nothing more than wining and dining, she's not some cheap skank, thank you very much - had turned out to be quite the disappointment. He had actually been stupid enough to believe that Blair dating other men somehow entitled him to see other women too.

A civil break-up from their non-relationship had been necessary, she mused, while she kicked off her Manolos and dropped her keys in the pale pink, glass bowl on the dresser next to the door. Too bad the poor bastard didn't handle punches to his ego very well. Was there ever reason enough to cause a scene in the middle of a crowded restaurant? The memory of her lunch date put a frown on her face. If there was, it was beyond her imagination.

She let out a content sigh as her tired and aching feet touched the plush rug covering the floor of the hallway. She picked up her bag from where she had dropped it on the floor and walked down the hallway leading down to her kitchen. This rare occasion, a night without having to attend a work event and without a dinner date, was going to be her excuse to spoil herself with a glass of wine, a bubble bath and a movie.

As she made her way over to the fridge to get some water, she pressed the button of her answering machine absentmindedly. The electronic voice indicating that she had one new message caught her attention as she opened the stainless steel door of the fridge.

"Blair". Oh joy, it was her mother. "Would it kill you to answer your phone? Really, in this day and age people really should be able to get a hold of you during the day, don't you think?"

She made a tired eye roll at the device, allowing the childish display now that her mother was not around to reprimand her on her antics. What on earth could be so important that it required Eleanor Waldorf to pick up the phone and call her one and only daughter?

"Anyway," The recorded voice of her mother continued, "I wanted to talk to you about the wedding," The wedding. A tight lump began forming in her chest. So that was the reason. "I do trust you to remember that it is no longer than a week left, and your invitation says 'plus one'. I know because I had lunch with Anne the other day. Now, I do expect you to bring someone respectable, Blair," her mother went on, and sounded like the idea of her daughter's personal life was cause enough for Eleanor to age prematurely. "It is bad enough to have to sit through a lunch with the woman, having to listen to her ranting about flowers and caterers, when I have to worry about you showing up to this nuisance of a wedding without a date. It would simply be unacceptable of you to show up unescorted, Blair. What would people say after all that has been going on between our families? Call me back."

The lump in lodged in her chest grew bigger by every word her mother added to the self-pitying rant. She had almost forgotten about the wedding. Or rather, she had done her very best to erase it completely from her mind, and had shoved the fancy, eggshell-colored invitation inside the depths of her enormous day planner. She rummaged through her red, patent Birkin. A few seconds of searching and she had found what she had been looking for. With a grim expression on her face she pulled out the invitation she considered to be every deity in the world's way to punish her for whatever it was they held her responsible for. The holocaust perhaps, or maybe global warming. She must have done something truly horrible to deserve this.

_Mr. and Mrs. Andrew Lifton  
and  
Mr. and Mrs. Archibald  
invite you to share in the joy  
of the marriage uniting their children  
Poppy Rebecca  
and  
Nathaniel Fitzwilliam_

Nate. The mere thought of Nate entering into holy matrimony with _Poppy Lifton_ was enough to make her feel queasy. She really, really wished that Poppy was the sole reason of her body's reaction, but sadly that was not the case.

She and Nate's relationship had been like something out of a fairytale. They met in kindergarten, became friends and then dated all the way through Junior High and High School. The King and Queen of Constance & St Jude's, and the Upper East Side too. She had been the Ice Queen with her court of loyal (terrified) minions, and he had been the charming and friendly captain of the lacrosse team. Yale followed after their graduation from High School, three years of blissfully making their way towards their happily ever after. Nate had proposed to her the night they both graduated from Yale. She accepted immediately, and they moved back to the Upper East Side. With Nate working at the New York mayor's office, and her with a new position at American Elle, her perfect life had been en route.

She had divided her time between her work and planning the wedding of the year. The latter definitely a more exciting pass-time in her opinion at the time. Perhaps she would have caught up with the signs earlier, had she not been so preoccupied with channeling a bridezilla in the making. If she had stopped to breathe every now and then, then maybe she would have noticed that something was not right. Then she might have been able to avoid the utter and complete humiliation of finding herself left at the altar on her wedding day.

Too much, too soon, not ready. Nate's excuses had been many once they sat down to have a 'civil and grown-up conversation about this utter disaster' as her mother had put it. All she can remember feeling is betrayal and humiliation. But instead of yelling or crying she smiled an understanding and patient smile, and told Nate that 'yes, she did understand where he was coming from, no hard feelings. Asia does sound amazing this time of year, don't worry I will handle the details'. Trivial details such as returning their wedding gifts and handling the media.

When a postcard from Singapore landed in Serena's mailbox two months later, telling her best friend all about Nate's travels and his new travel companions that he had met in Thailand, their old friends Poppy and Carter, Blair's gut had told her something was up. When Nate returned three weeks after the arrival of his postcard, joined by a deliriously happy Poppy, the later wearing a huge diamond on her left ring finger, Blair had been proven right and swiftly demanded to be transferred far away from New York and the Upper East Side.

A clear, lone drop landed on the paper in her hand, and interrupted her painful trip down memory lane. Suddenly dumping Paul over a Caesar Salad and a glass of sparkling mineral water didn't feel like the greatest idea of her 26 year-old life. So what if Paul was a complete bore and unable to keep his hands on one woman at a time? He was also a prominent lawyer, had good table manners and was quite the expert on excruciatingly boring small talk. He could be her plus one to the wedding; maybe she should give him a call tomorrow?

Oh no, no way, she decided and wiped the evidence of weakness off her cheeks, before stuffing the invitation back in her bag, she would not go there. No more Nate-inflicted self-pity or regrets. Though suddenly the prospect of a quiet night at home with her thoughts didn't sound as appealing as it had thirty minutes ago. No, she decided, walking over to the cupboard to find the Chardonnay she had been saving for a special occasion. Blair Waldorf doesn't mope or sulk alone on her chamber on a Friday night. Blair Waldorf, successful editor and gorgeous single woman, goes out on a Friday night. If a hot single woman can decide to go drinking in a bar alone, then perhaps hot, rich men might come up with a similar idea? (She really needs to find herself a date for that stupid wedding.)

XOXO

"Stupid medieval-esque town," Blair mumbled under her breath as she walked down the road on her way home again hours later. Several hours, and several cocktails later too in all honesty. Sadly it seemed like most hot, single men took their soon-to-be-not-single dates to bars on Fridays.

"The lack of cabs in this town is simply," A hiccup escaped her lips, and she covered her mouth in horror from her plebeian display, only to burst into a fit of giggles the next second. "Unacceptable." She finished later on, in very best impersonation of Eleanor's disapproving sneer. Her own voice had her laughing again and she stumbled to the side, nearly falling over.

"Come on, Waldorf." She muttered, "Get yourself together and climb, that, hill."

Ten minutes later Blair was exhausted and annoyed. She sent her Manolos a patented Blair Waldorf death glare. Clearly her beautiful plum-colored shoes didn't return her love and affection. Judging from the blisters forming on the back of her heels, the pair of designer shoes was out to get her. She let out a huff, and ungracefully slumped down on the stairs of an old building, resting her elbows on her knees and cradling her head in her hands.

"Just a moments rest, and then you'll get going again. Alright, Waldorf?" She told herself quietly, intrigued by the discovery that the steps seemed to be moving like the ocean down in San Francisco Bay.

Blair didn't hear the sound of the door above the flight of stairs being closed, or the sound of footsteps descending to her level. She didn't become aware of the fact that she had company, until a pair of man's dress shoes showed up in her line of vision. The discovery indicating that someone, and a man with great taste at that, was standing right in front of her.

"You alright there?" A rich, velvet voice inquired. Realizing she was staring dumbfounded at the voice's shoes, Blair slowly diverted her gaze from the ground and looked in the direction which the voice was coming from, her upper body tilting a little to the side as she did.

Dark eyes were the first that she noticed, apart from the nice, tan-colored shoes. Dark eyes looking down on her, flashing with amusement and a hint of concern. She found herself mesmerized by those eyes, unable to stop staring. Then the dark-eyed stranger's lips tugged into something that could only be described as a smirk. A devilishly handsome smirk.

"Miss?" The dark-eyed, smirking, man asked her again.

"Huh?"

"You okay?" The man questioned, "You look like you might need a hand."

"No!" Blair objected hastily, and began to push herself up from her position on the stairs. Suddenly feeling a little intimidated by her somewhat compromising position, sitting down on the stairs in front of a complete stranger. "I don't need he-" She almost made it to a standing position but the ground decided to take up its ocean-impression once more. She stumbled helplessly to the side and nearly fell over.

Before she barely had time to let out the undignified, shocked yelp that was escaping her lips, she found herself safely held in strong arms. He smelled of expensive cologne and cigarettes, she realized, and had to stop herself before she nuzzled into the fabric of his pale, grey shirt to inhale the for some reason intoxicating scent. The crisp cotton of his shirt the same color as the sky on a cloudy day.

He was holding her steadily by the arms while she struggled to regain her composure, and some of her pride. Finally succeeding she took a step back, smoothing out some invisible crinkles in her navy, silk dress. When she looked back at him again, she found the humored smirk still on his lips.

"You sure about that?" He smirked, cocking an eyebrow in her direction. She straightened her back further and raised her chin haughtily, narrowing her eyes. Who did he think he was anyway? Prince Charming?

"Just thought you might like a ride," The man continued, nodding to a black sports car parked by the side of the street. "There is always room in my carriage for a damsel in distress."

Was he gorgeous _and_ a psychic? Didn't she just think about him in fairytale terms?

"I'm not a serial murderer or some crazy stalker; I just thought you might like a lift up the hill. I'm assuming that is the direction you're headed since you felt the need for a breather, " the man continued.

He had dark hair too, she noticed then, but his eyes weren't as dark as she had previously thought. Now that she was standing up and facing him in the light of the street lamp, his eyes had the color of dark whiskey.

"Like there is any other way to go than 'up the hill' in this godforsaken, ski slope of a town." She replied, and to her surprise and satisfaction he let out a deep chuckle at her remark.

"I take it you're not from around here then." He replied, and smirked at the obviously inebriated brunette in front of him. The shoulder strap of her navy dress had fell off her slender shoulder, and her dark curls were in disarray. She was gorgeous. The appalled look on her face had him letting out another barely contained laugh.

"I most definitely am not!" The brunette exclaimed haughtily, "I'm from Manhattan."

"As in New York?"

"Well of course as in New York! Is there another Manhattan just lying around somewhere nearby?"

"Haven't heard anyone refer to themselves as being from Manhattan before that's all," he replied calmly, discretely evaluating her. Inebriated, definitely, and a little upset about something too, he could see that in her eyes. But also most likely wealthy giving the pricey heels and the expensive designer dress. Actually, her whole air and appearance oozed with class and old money. Not the kind of class that came with being born with a silver spoon in your mouth, or channeling 'the talented Mr. Ripley'. No, this silky-skinned, petite brunette in front of him carried herself like an old Hollywood movie star. Or would carry herself that way, had she not been completely drunk and almost on the verge of falling asleep while standing up.

"Now, let's get you to the top that hill." He stated, and offered her his arm in an image of the perfect gentleman. He had been on his way home, but he was in a generous mood from the hefty tip he had received a few minutes ago.

"Fine." She sighed, and decided that she might as well take him up on his offer, linking her arm with his. "Who are you anyway?"

"I'm Chuck Bass." Chuck replied, and nothing in the world could have prepared him for her reaction. She broke out laughing. She laughed so hard she had to bend over and clutch her stomach.

"Your name," Blair choked out through fits of laughter, "Is _Chuck Bass_?"

A spear of ice shot through his stomach, but dissolved when she went on;

"What were your parents thinking?" She laughed. Trying to regain her composure she wiped tears off her cheeks and brushed some stray curls out of her face. "Having a surname that rhymes with ass, and then a first name that rhymes with-" She stopped midsentence, and was that a blush he caught coloring her cheeks?

"Rhymes with what?" Chuck taunted her amicably as they walked around his car and he opened the passenger door to let her in.

"You know what." Blair replied, still blushing.

"Au contraire," Chuck smirked, "I never pictured you to be the kind of lady to use such foul words as f-"

"Luck!" She interjected quickly, and sent him a proud grin that had him chuckling as he rounded the car and got in the driver's seat.

"Then I guess this is your _chucky_ day," he drawled, and sent her an approving look as he fastened his seatbelt and turned on the engine. Utterly amused when she nearly shuttered in reaction to his obvious, and appreciative, scrutiny.

He pulled out onto the road, and they travelled up the hill in silence. He assumed she lived in one of the newly built villas and since she didn't object when he did a final left turn, he came to the conclusion that he had been right.

"So what do you do for a living?" Blair inquired. She had a feeling the calming sound of the car's engine might lull her to sleep, unless she engaged in some kind of conversation with her dark, mysterious savior.

Chuck shot her a look, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, stalling the inevitable for a little while longer. He could never be sure on what reaction he would get in case he told someone of his, slightly un-orthodox, career choice. She was a little too young, even though he estimated they were probably about the same age, and too beautiful to have even considered exploring the services provided within his field of work.

"Had I known that was all it took to shut you up, I would have asked that question minutes ago," Blair teased him as he pulled over and the car came to a stop near her building.

He shot her a look and unbuckled his seatbelt. "I provide single women with casual company to dates or parties." He answered, and got out of the car.

Blair's mind was reeling and she could do nothing but stare at him, wide-eyed and her mouth agape, while he walked around the car. "You're a _gigolo_?" She shrieked, as he pulled her door open. She quickly made a move to get out of the car, only to let out a huff when she found herself being pulled back roughly into her seat by her still fastened seatbelt.

"No," he smirked, as he leaned in to unbuckle the seatbelt for her. He was suddenly very close, her nose mere inches from the neckline of his shirt and the paisley ascot there. Once again his cologne invaded her senses and caught her attention.

"I prefer 'professional dater'," he smirked, locking eyes with her. She suddenly felt light-headed and realized that maybe she shouldn't have had that last martini. Then he pulled away and extended his hand to her.

"You're an escort." Blair informed him, breathing a sigh of relief now that he was keeping his distance. "You get paid to…entertain women." She shook her head to rid herself of the image that should be less appealing that it was. That last martini had definitely been a bad idea.

"I'm not a prostitute," Chuck scoffed, as he accompanied her up the stairs of her house, "That's illegal you know. I just happen to be the perfect date." He added with a smug look on his face. Blair cocked an eyebrow doubtingly in his direction and he winked. "I could give you my list of recommendations, and my business card, to prove it."

She stopped and shot him a displeased look. "Do I look like I need to pay someone in order to go on a date?" She sneered, placing her hand on her hip and staring him down.

"Do I look like someone who gets paid for a date?" Chuck replied, and when she couldn't present him with a witty comeback, he let out another one of those addictive laughs. "I should get going. You can consider this a free sample of my services, Ms.-" He paused and looked at her, amusement glittering in his eyes.

"Waldorf," she found herself replying, even though she could hardly believe she was introducing herself to a gigolo.

"Ms. Waldorf, it's been a pleasure," Chuck said, taking her hand in his warm, bigger one, and placed a kiss on the back of her hand. Amused by the puzzled frown that appeared on her face in reaction to his gesture. Then he turned around and walked down the steps without looking back. Well on the street he shoved his hands down the pockets of his charcoal slacks, and walked towards his car whistling a tune she couldn't quite identify.

Blair realized she had been staring, when he reached his car and turned around, raising his eyebrow in glee. That smug smirk still firmly in place. She jolted then, and wiped the back of her hand with her other one in an attempt to rid her skin of the tingling sensation his lips had left behind. To her surprise she found that she was holding on to a small, black piece of paper. Flipping it over, she could make out letters in a shiny shade of black on the back of the card. His name was on there, as well as a phone number.

A business card. She had just been bestowed with a gigolo's business card. This really had to be one of the strangest nights of her life. With that thought in mind, she unlocked her front door and headed for bed. She fell asleep almost immediately and dreamed of wedding cakes, trips to Thailand and brown eyes.

XOXO

* * *

_"She turned Chuck into a whaaat?!"_

_So, what do you think? You up for more of this?_

_Please review and let me know what you think, and if you want me to continue!_

_Thanks for reading!_

_Camilla_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N** ...Ah! You guys are so freaking amazing! Thank you so much for all your kind words and all the encouragement! :) _

_I will keep on writing this, as I have told those of you who reviewed, though it will probably be somewhat of a second priority until I've finished HWG. But there will be regular updates :) This feels really exciting and fun to be writing, not following canon at all is a challenge. (and writing Chuck without too many sexual innuendos, since he doesn't know Blair and is actually working, is even more challenging. haha)_

_Some of you reviewed anonymously so:_

_**umuofia** - thank you! I'm glad you liked it!_

_**Lenora** - thank you! and about Chuck's style, his outfit from the last chapter was partly inspired by what he was wearing in 2x15._

_I was actually thinking...Since I'm not following canon I might use some oc Chuck and Blair's outfits from the show (just for the fun of it. haha) Virtual cookies for anyone who can name the episode...jk ;)_

_This is un-beta'd, I apologize in advance for any mistakes! Happy reading!_

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Blair paced anxiously back and forth, clutching the phone in her right hand so hard her knuckles were turning white. The red silk of her dressing gown swooshed around her legs with every turn and twist she made as she stormed around her living room. She let out an exasperated huff, and fell into one of the plush, leather armchairs, tapping her fingers against the phone impatiently. In the next second she was up and moving again, continuing with her restless pacing around the room. A while later, she finally surrendered, and picked up the discreet, black business card from where it had been lying, silently mocking her, on the coffee-table.

The fact that she was even considering this was downright mortifying. This is what you have stooped to, she informed herself wryly. You are actually considering going through with this. Though desperate times call for desperate measures, she decided, and dialed the local number at the back of the card. Before the call had even had time to connect, she panicked and pushed 'disconnect'. Appalled by her own uncharacteristically indecisive behavior, she came close to complete surrender, until she caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the window. She looked like a crazy person, wide-eyed and stressed out, and she forced herself to breathe calmly. The question now was; did she want to be a crazy, stressed out and date-less version of herself, or a somewhat sane Blair with a date she has paid for?

Her eyes surveyed her living room while she contemplated her decision. A group of framed pictures caught her attention. Blair walked over to the photographs, and leisurely trailed her finger along the outline of an ornate, silver frame. It was a photo of her and Nate on the night of their engagement party, the two of them together side by side, looking deliriously happy. Or at least she looked happy, looking at it now Nate actually looked a little stressed out, she thought. The fact that it has been two years, and she was still bothered about something which clearly hadn't really affected him even then, brought forth a decision. She took a deep breath, and dialed the number again. She could barely hear the ringing over the loud thumping of her heart as she waited for the other person to pick up her call. Her thumb hovering indecisively over the phone, prepared to end the madness at any second.

"Hello." The same smooth voice she recognized from a week ago answered, and Blair suddenly couldn't speak. Realizing she was still holding her breath, she exhaled raggedly. "Hello? Ms. Anderson, are you calling me again?" The voice inquired.

The question floored her completely. Great, not only was she calling a gigolo to acquire his services for the 'UES wedding of the year', she was apparently calling a gigolo with a crazy stalker at that.

"Alright, I'm hanging up now. Have a good day." He sighed, and a cold rush of panic shot through her system.

"No!" Blair managed to blurt out, "Don't, I mean. I'm not-" She stuttered and cringed at her sudden lack of eloquence. "I'm not Ms. Anderson. I'm Blair, Blair Waldorf?" The last syllables of her explanation uttered in a meek, barely audible voice.

"Ms. Waldorf?" the man mused, "Oh, the movie star."

"Excuse me?" She was beginning to regret her decision. Not only did he have some kind of pathetic, old lady stalking him. He was clearly delusional too.

"Nothing," She could hear the grin in his voice even over the phone as he continued, "What can I do for you Ms. Waldorf, Blair?"

Here goes nothing Blair thought, and pressing her eyes shut she took a deep breath before opening her mouth to speak again. "What would you say about a weekend in New York?"

XOXO

You can do this. Had she had more of a free-spirited, self-help-book-reader personality, those four words would have been posted on post-its all over the place. Then they would have been played on repeat on an mp3-player, perhaps even tattooed on her forehead. Because Blair felt she could really, really have used the unavoidable and continuous self-affirmations as she made her way down the aisle of the aircraft, towards her seat. She offered the flight attendant a weak smile, and sat down in the comfortable chair. She resisted the urge to tap her foot, and opted for flipping through the magazine in the seat pocket in front of her instead. Her date - she assumed she really should start calling him by his first name sometime soon, given that they had supposedly been dating for the last few months – _Chuck_, had asked to meet her onboard the plane due to some 'scheduling difficulties'. She had felt neither the need nor the wish to find out what kind of difficulties he was referring to, and had simply agreed without further questions.

She was coming to terms with the fact that all that was left for her to do was to keep her fingers crossed, and hope that he was as decent-looking (alright, slight understatement on her part) and charming that she vaguely remembered him to have been when they first met. Who knows, perhaps she had only imagined him to be, due to her then martini-induced state of mind?

Blair barely had time to finish her line of thought before Chuck showed up in the doorway, and she felt relief wash over her. She hadn't imagined any of those qualities, she realized, as he greeted the flight attendants. His attention leaving both of the uniform-clad women looking a little dazed. When his eyes landed on her, he raised his eyebrow in greeting, and she quickly got out of her chair. What was it about this man that had her on the edge of her seat simply from looking at her?

"Hey" Blair choked out nervously, taking in his blue shirt with the white collar and cuffs, the striped piece of silk around his neck and the dark slacks. She couldn't help but fear that someone would jump up from their expensive leather seat at any moment and yell; 'Look! That man's an escort!'. Either that, or 'Look, honey! A metrosexual!'.

"Blair," Chuck greeted her, and leaned in to plant a kiss on her cheek, discretely ignoring how her body went rigid at his touch. He was used to nervous 'virgins' and found them quite amusing to be honest, not that he ever let on to that. "Good to see you," He continued, gesturing for her to return to her seat and then sat down next to her.

Her hair was pulled back in a chignon today, and the cocktail dress had been replaced by a high-waist, black skirt and a white ruffle blouse. Her lips were pursed together so tightly had she not been wearing a deep shade of red lipstick they probably would have been ghostly white. She was fidgeting, twisting a golden ring with a ruby heart around her index finger repeatedly. Chuck reached out and placed his hand on hers, causing her to jolt and shoot him a shocked look.

"You really need to stop hyperventilating," he murmured, leaning in closer to her, "You can do this." Her hands stopped moving, and to her surprise she did feel a little further from a nervous breakdown. "You can go to New York, face your ex and make it through this weekend." Chuck continued, and for some reason she almost believed him. She had enlightened him briefly on the situation over the phone after blurting out her wish to take him to New York. He had been hesitant at first, and she had hastily declared that he was free to name his price. The last words had her blushing in a deep shade of crimson, thinking of how accurate the line really was in this case. He had not made any comments about her choice of words though, but simply agreed after a moment's consideration.

Blair looked over to him, and he offered her a champagne flute passed on to him by the flight attendant. Blair accepted it with a shaking hand, and downed the expensive liquid in one go. The bubbles in the drink did nothing to ease the nervous flutter in her stomach, and she was back to fidgeting with the cuff of her blouse, when Chuck's hand found hers once again.

"Blair, look at me." He murmured, and Blair lifted her gaze from her finger's nervous dance to look at him. "You can do this."

In that moment the plane took off down the airstrip, the g-force pushing them back into their seats. Blair realized that it really didn't matter whether or not she could do this, unless she decided to venture into skydiving within the next hours, she would simply _have_ to.

XOXO

"Refresh my memory about the deal with this wedding," Chuck said, leaning back against the seat of the limo and looking over to the close-to-an-aneurysm brunette on the seat next to him. "And breathe while you're at it." He added the last part in a joking tone, and smirked as she shot him something that could only be described as the saying 'if looks could kill' embodied.

He had been more than surprised to find that there was no family or friends greeting them at the airport. The only welcoming committee had been a tall, dark-haired limo driver standing by the exit, holding a sign with her last name. Actually, what had puzzled him was that Blair seemed not to be the least bit surprised or upset by the whole thing. She had simply motioned to him to hand over their bags to the man, and gotten inside the limo without another word. When the driver told her of her mother's sincere apologies for not being there, Blair had only rolled her eyes and replied with a blatantly fake smile.

"The wedding is on Saturday," Blair began, busy applying a new coat of red lipstick. "My ex is marrying an old friend of ours. I have no desire to be there for that, we went through an extremely public break-up a little over two years ago, but not showing up would give the 'bored and botox-ed' too much to gossip about during their daily brunches. Besides, my mother does business with his family, so I'm expected to be there."

"You mentioned something about a friend of yours?" Chuck inquired, the strained tone in her voice not lost on him.

"Serena," Blair smiled, and for the first time she felt remotely happy to be in New York. She had missed her best friend. "You will love her, everyone does. She still sees Nate, my ex, a lot. She works at the same company as his new fiancée."

_New_ fiancée, that gave away more than she probably have intended to share, and explained a lot when it came to the sadness in her eyes. "And we're staying at your mom's house?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Blair replied, the grim look back on her face. "You know those messed up families that really don't function, but you end up loving them anyway?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"My family's not like that." Blair said matter-of-factly, and had she not looked so completely serious he might have laughed at the comedy in her statement. "My mother and I do not see eye to eye, she takes pride in being critical and chronically disappointed. Her husband, Cyrus, is really nice though. I like him a lot. But he's my step-father so I guess he's more of a hostage, really."

"So it's more a case of the Stockholm Syndrome than a marriage?"

"Prominent psychoanalysts are still trying to decide."

Chuck let out a chuckle at that, and Blair couldn't help but join him. He had the most contagious laugh underneath that cocky smirk, but she assumed that was probably in the job description.

When the limo came to a stop outside her mother's building, Chuck was the first one to step out onto the sidewalk. Blair scooted across the seat and found his hand extended to her for support. When she got out of the vehicle the driver was busy placing their luggage onto a luggage trolley, ready to be wheeled inside by the doorman.

"Ms. Waldorf." The man greeted them, and Blair was about to reply when she felt a hand snake around her waist, the sudden physical contact causing her to nearly jump out of her own skin.

"What are you doing?" She hissed quietly at Chuck, but he did nothing but smirk and pull her closer to his side. He nodded at the man's question about handling their luggage for them, and began leading her towards the entrance.

"I do believe it's considered normal for a man to actually touch his supposed girlfriend." He murmured into her hair. "Now, let's go meet the parents."

XOXO

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_Review?! :)_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N** First of all, thank you so much for the reviews, alerts and favourite-ings!!! You guys are awesome! _

_This is still un-beta'd, my apologies in advance._

_**Disclaimer:** Still, I own nothing!_

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It was apparently so that you could experience the feeling of plummeting through nothingness, even when you travelled upwards in a very stable elevator compartment, Blair realized as her and Chuck waited for the elevator to reach her mother's penthouse. The paradox of the situation didn't stop the pending feeling of doom that caused her to hurl herself forward and slam her hand on the emergency button.

The elevator came to an immediate halt. Chuck jumped, and shot her a look of pure panic. "What are you doing?" He hissed, momentarily forgoing his professional attitude. It is not exactly everyday procedure to find yourself in a tiny box hanging from unreliable wires. And apparently in the company of a madwoman too.

"I almost forgot," Blair replied breezily, rummaging through her bag and choosing to ignore his slightly aggressive tone. "Here," She found what she had been looking for and handed Chuck an envelope, "You should have this before you have to face my mother. Six thousand is what we agreed on, correct?"

"Ms Waldorf? Is everything alright?" The doorman's voice interrupted them over the intercom.

Blair stiffened and looked around frantically before she found the speaker and pressed the button to the microphone. "We're fine," she informed the man chirpily, "Just…give us a second." With that handled, she let go of the button and held the envelope out for Chuck with an expectant look etched on her face.

Chuck let out a huff and accepted the envelope with a glare in Blair's direction. It was heavy in his hand and almost bursting at the seams. He was about to put the envelope in the inner pocket of his dark suit jacket, but Blair stopped him with a hand on his lower arm. "Count it,"

"No need," Chuck replied, moving along with his plan to put the envelope out of sight and get out of this tiny box. "I trust you."

"Count it," Blair demanded, her fingernails digging into his harm in silent, but not unnoticed, persuasion.

Chuck couldn't keep from roll his eyes at her antics, but did as he was told. He opened the envelope and quickly flipped through the crisp dollar bills. Nothing like the feeling of walls closing in on you to bring forth any hidden 'mathlete' qualities one might be harbouring unknowingly. There was six thousand dollars in the envelope. He gave Blair an assenting look, and to his relief she pushed the emergency button again. The elevator came back to life with a stir and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"This will cover the basics," he explained, putting the envelope away inside his suit jacket. "We'll discuss any kind of 'happy ending' beforehand, and deal with the price then." Blair gaped back at him in shock, a flush colouring her cheeks as she caught on to what he was referring to, and Chuck smirked. Then she regained her composure, and looked about two seconds away from swatting his shoulder indignantly.

"There will be no 'happy endings'." She bit out forcefully, completing the statement with air quotes and all. "That's just…ew. No." Her choice of words didn't face him, but she looked both appalled and apologetic. He was about to comment, when the elevator came to a stop, and the doors opened before them.

"Ms Blair! You are back!" A maid in traditional uniform exclaimed in heavily accented English, approaching them hurriedly. When the maid's gaze fell on Chuck, standing behind her beloved protégé, her eyes narrowed slightly but the gesture was barely noticeable.

"Dorota," Blair greeted her airily and smiled at the ecstatic maid. "This is Chuck, my-" She trailed off as she turned around to face Chuck, "…boyfriend," she finished in a way that made it sound more like a question than an official presentation of the latest love-interest in her life.

"Yes, Mr Chuck." Dorota nodded and offered him a polite smile, "Mrs Rose has told me about Ms Blair's new boy." Chuck could feel Dorota quietly scrutinizing him but kept his well-mannered expression firmly in place.

"It is a pleasure meeting someone that has played such a big part in Blair's upbringing." Chuck greeted the maid smarmily, and Blair had to fight the urge to swat his shoulder again. Dorota on the other hand beamed at his words, and quickly began picking their luggage up off the floor. When Chuck promptly made a move to lift some of the heavier bags, Blair could tell from the look on her maid's face that Chuck had already won one of the people in her life over.

"Mrs Rose will be home soon," Dorota informed them as they climbed the stairs and walked down the hallway towards Blair's room. "Tonight there is big party for wedding, Mrs Rose say you must be ready at seven," the maid finished, and put her share of Luis Vuitton luggage down outside the shut door.

"Great," Blair huffed under her breath, and Chuck skilfully hid an amused chuckle in a cough. "Now, will you please show Chuck the guestroom Dorota? I know how traditional Cyrus is regarding these things."

"Mrs Rose not tell you?" Dorota beamed, looking over at Blair as if she was revealing a pleasant surprise. "Guestroom is being redecorated; Mr Chuck will sleep with you."

No he most certainly will not_ sleep_ with me, Blair wanted to yell, though she knew that her maid had not meant for any kind of sexual innuendo to be hidden within her last comment. "What?" She stammered instead as Dorota opened the door of her room and began to carry the luggage inside. "He is staying in here? With me? But there is only one bed."

Dorota frowned at her stuttering rant, and Chuck chuckled, pulling her close. "I'm sure we'll find a way to make this work, honey." He drawled, flinging her bag on top of her bed ungracefully and winking at Dorota. The maid blushed and patted Blair on the arm as she walked by on her way out.

"You two be good," Dorota admonished, and then walked out the door with a final reminder, "don't forget big party at 7, Mrs Rose will be home soon."

"Nice place," Chuck said as Dorota disappeared out of sight, "Your maid loves me."

"She is not a reliable source, she has inhaled a lot of detergent fumes over the years," Blair hissed through gritted teeth, "We should get ready for tonight." She sighed and began looking through her luggage in search of an appropriate dress. Something that said 'I don't care about you leaving me at the altar only to propose to some skanky socialite two months later. Have you met my very non-rented and successful boyfriend Chuck?'" She was trying to decide between a black knee-length dress and a bright yellow one when Chuck's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"The black one," He murmured, and it sounded to Blair as if he was standing right behind her. Turning around she found that she had been right. Though the volume of his voice had failed to inform her that he would be standing right behind her _and_ in the progress of unbuttoning his blue shirt. She caught a promising glimpse of smooth skin and just the right amount of chest hair before she realized what she, or rather _he_, was doing.

"Do you mind?" She shrieked, stepping away from him and nearly tripping over a piece of luggage standing on the floor.

"No, not at all actually," Chuck leered, shrugging the shirt off his shoulders and tossing it on a chair by the window. "Feel free to check out the goods." Blair was at a loss for words, and stood there staring at him like he had all of a sudden grown two heads. That until Chuck unceremoniously unbuckled his belt, and got out of his pants as well. The sound of fabric against the floor brought Blair out of her temporary daze. She threw herself across the room and covered her eyes with her hand.

"No need." She managed to choke out. Chuck assessed her thoughtfully; she was kind of cute all flustered like that. He frowned at the last thought crossing his mind, but let it go with a mental shrug of his shoulder.

"I guess I should hit the shower then," he said, and smirked as Blair peeked from between her fingers, only to let out a surprised yelp.

"_Now_ wouldn't be a second too soon." The sound of feet moving towards the bathroom calmed her thumping heart substantially, and she lowered her improvised blindfold just in time to catch a glimpse of very-un-dressed-Chuck disappearing inside the bathroom. She frowned at her own behaviour, ogling the hired date now Waldorf? Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Once she was sure Chuck was safely out of sight and behind the shower curtain, she returned to trying to choose the right outfit. She held the two dresses in front of her and scrutinized her own reflection in the mirror. She liked both dresses to be honest, the black one was elegant and pretty, the yellow equally chic but definitely something that demanded attention. She left both dresses on the bed and walked towards the bathroom where the water was still running. Chuck was humming something, and she couldn't help but smile. It was the same tune he had been whistling when they first met and she was getting a little annoyed that she couldn't place it although it sounded so eerily familiar.

"Why should I wear the black one?" Blair's voice interrupted his thoughts. Chuck poured some more shampoo into the palm of his hand and patiently began counting in his head. He was at twelve when Blair ran out of patience and snapped. "Chuck?!" He suppressed a grin, and pushed the shower curtain aside.

"Sorry?" He said ruefully, pretending not to have heard her the first time, "You were saying?" Blair blushed as he appeared from behind the shielding of the curtain, and niftily kept her eyes fixated on his, her lips pursed and her brows furrowed. Yes, she was definitely cute like that.

"Why do you think I should wear the black dress and not the yellow one?" She asked him, desperately trying to ignore the fact that she was having a discussion about her attire for the evening with a stark naked, dripping wet…No! Focus!

"Because it matches what I'm wearing," Chuck explained, as if it was the most natural answer in the world.

"Matches?" Blair frowned, "matches how exactly? I don't want us to look all matchy-matchy."

"It's a black dress, movie star. We won't look like a colour-coordinated Stepford-couple."

"Fine," Blair agreed haughtily. Chuck raised an eyebrow smugly when she didn't leave immediately. Blair narrowed her eyes at his expression, then realized what he was referring to, and stomped out of the bathroom. This could get real interesting, Chuck mused, it's not every day that business comes with a dose of pleasure.

XOXO

Chuck was adjusting his tie in the mirror of the vanity when Blair stepped out of the bathroom, smoothing out some invisible wrinkle in her dress. For a second he forgot all about business and being professional, and mentally scratched 'cute' to replace it with 'beautiful'. Cute definitely didn't cover a less flustered Blair Waldorf in formal wear. The black chiffon dress had a square neckline, showing off just a hint of cleavage, with delicate, see-through sleeves covering her slender shoulders. Her hair was in an extravagant up-do. She looked positively radiant. A waft of her perfume hit his nostrils and made him feel lightheaded, that spot right where her neck and shoulder meet looked…No! Focus, Bass. You're _working_. Keep it professional. "Wow." Alright, not exactly what he was aiming for, but at least it's a step up from a wolf whistle.

The one word escaping his lips caught Blair's attention immediately, and she turned around prepared to object but lost her train of thought at the sight of him. He was wearing a dark, pin-striped suit, a purple striped shirt and a black polka-dot tie. That offensive mixture of patterns really shouldn't look _that_ good on anyone, but it did, and they did match. And not in the matchy-matchy kind of way she had feared.

"You look ravishing," Chuck told her, eyeing her approvingly. Blair couldn't help but feel flattered, even though she guessed it was probably somewhere in the chapter on 'how to increase your tip' in 'A gigolo's guide to success'.

"You're ex is going to regret ever letting you out of his sight." Chuck continued. She smiled nervously at that, and found herself hoping and praying that he was right. He offered her his arm, and she linked her own, slightly shaky one, with his. They looked great together, she decided as they passed by the mirror. She took a steadying breath to try and calm the fluttering in her stomach. Let the show begin, curtains up!

XOXO

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_Thanks for reading!_

_Reviews and constructive criticism is greatly welcomed!_

_Remember...review = inspiration = faster update ;)_

_Thanks for reading!_

_Camilla_


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N** Thank you so much for the reviews guys, you make me blush! Virtual cookies for ChairBear and miazmija who recognized Blair's dress from Seventeen Candles! Chuck's outfit is the one he's wearing in the 'cherry' scene in Victor/Victrola._

_This update took way longer than planned, school has been kicking my ass. But now I'm on summer break, with no job, so there will be quicker updates from now on (hopefully)_

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"So, Chuck," Eleanor cleared her throat and sent him an inquisitive look once they were seated in the limo, "What is it that you do for a living?"

Blair froze, and shot Chuck a panicked look that perhaps wasn't as subtle as one would have wished for it to be. As if having endured the horror of Cyrus chuckling and pulling the 'one-hug-is-not-enough' on _both_ of them mere minutes ago wasn't enough. Her heart was pounding in her chest, but to her relief Chuck didn't seem faced at all by her mother's question.

"I'm in the real estate business," Chuck replied to her mother's question, and slipped his hand into Blair's and began toying with her fingers. Ignoring the pleasant tingles that flowed from her fingertips all the way to her gut, Blair straightened her back and concentrated on the conversation. If she was to find herself in situations like this during this weekend, then she assumed it would be best to pay attention to his stories. Though she wished he would stop that soothing motion he was making with his thumb on the back of her hand. It might be all for show, but his touch really proved that she had gone too long without a proper date.

"Actually, I'm more involved with the architectural aspects and the design of the buildings than the business deals." Chuck explained, and felt a strange feeling of pride for not stretching the truth that much. But this right here was why he usually avoided this kind of jobs. The background stories needed much more effort than they did for a casual date. There you could always steer the question in another direction. Seated in a small, enclosed space with your supposed girlfriend's family, that technique didn't work that well.

"And where is this business of yours located?" Eleanor replied, busy adjusting Cyrus' tie and smiling as the older man caught her hand in his and kissed it enthusiastically.

"Mother, that dress looks great on you," Blair interrupted her mother, "It is one of your own designs, correct?"

A smug look flashed across Eleanor's features, and Chuck could feel Blair relax next to him as her mother began telling her all about her latest line and the show during Fashion Week.

Blair nearly breathed a sigh of relief as her mother changed the subject, and made a mental note to make sure her and Chuck got their background stories straight. That way, if her mother and everyone else kept asking questions, at least they wouldn't be caught telling different lies. Chuck's story about the real estate business had surprised her a little; he must be used to telling appropriate stories in situations like this. She couldn't really say the same for herself. Up until now her life had been spared from making up relationship histories to keep people from realizing her date was hired.

XOXO

"You can let go of my hand now," Blair told him quietly as the two of them made their way through the lobby of the Palace Hotel, on their way to the ballroom rented for the occasion. "The touchy-feely thing has never been my trademark, people might get suspicious."

Chuck raised an eyebrow in question, but did as she asked him to. What she hadn't expected was the sting of loss she felt as he did. Though the feeling went great with the other feeling currently invading her senses. That being the feeling of walking towards your own execution. Blair could feel herself moving more and more slowly as they approached the entrance of the grand ballroom, nodding stiffly at fleeting acquaintances of her mother's as they passed by, and pretending not to notice their pitying glances. A few feet away from the doorway, she completely froze.

Chuck was walking beside Blair, ignoring the sudden and extremely uncharacteristic feeling of rejection, when she reached out and gripped his hand like a vice. Indecisive, much? He was about to give voice to the sarcastic comment burning on the tip of his tongue, when he turned his head around and looked at her. The distraught look in her eyes ruled out any kind of humorous remark.

"I'm not sure I can do this," Blair whispered.

Normally, he would have found a date's need for constant reassuring tiring and a great turnoff, but not this time around. "Of course you can," He replied and made sure her fingers were carefully intertwined with his, and then added, "And it's not like you really have a choice."

She didn't reply, and he had the chance to momentarily regret his attempt to lighten the mood, but then she pulled herself together and looked at him with a determined look on her face. It was impressing to watch, like a veil falling over her features and covering every sign of insecurity or pain. The only hint of anxiety left was found in her eyes, but he guessed one would have to look pretty damn close to notice it. And from what he knew about this kind of gathering, no one would look further than to her flawless make-up and elegant dress. The crème de la crème of society never did. He on the other hand did notice, and he couldn't help but wonder if she could mask any kind of feeling the same way.

Forcing her lips into a smile that she came nowhere near her eyes, Blair took a deep breath and then followed as Chuck pulled her with him towards the ballroom. The room was drenched in candles and pink roses, and the chatter surrounding them was the small talk of New York's elite. Women were in high heels, designer dresses and covered in diamonds or pearls depending on their age. Most of them on the arm of one of the men in classic suits, shiny shoes and with a successful aura surrounding them.

"I'll go get us some drinks," Chuck suggested, leaning in close to Blair. So close that his jaw brushed against her cheek. She nodded, her throat suddenly too dry to talk and the movement caused their cheeks to come in contact again. When he didn't move, but lingered, Blair pulled her head back a little to look him in the eyes.

It was a little like being hit by something blunt and heavy, Chuck decided as her eyes locked on his, that something in the air between them that made it hard to breathe. That something that made his mind swirl and cloud over. Surprised and annoyed by his own body's reaction, he somehow managed to pull himself together and winked mischievously at her before stepping away and heading for the bar.

Blair watched him walk towards the bar. Her heart was pounding in her chest and not only from nervousness but from something else. She let out a ragged breath. With a raise of her chin, a move she had perfected over years of training and that immediately told any bystanders that she was worthy of their attention and admiration, Blair looked out over the heavily decorated ballroom. She was looking in the direction of the big, glass doors leading out onto the patio when she spotted him. Nate. Standing with a group of men, laughing and raising his glass in toast to something that was being said. As he knocked back the last remaining drops in his tumbler, his eyes fell on her. Blair couldn't breathe.

She couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't think. There he was, her Nate. Gorgeous as always, smiling, _engaged_. Not _her _Nate, she reminded herself firmly, not anymore. _Poppy's_ Nate. The thought still made her cringe. She watched as Nate's expression changed from one of surprise to one of joy. He said something to his company, never breaking eye-contact, and then began moving in her direction. 'No', every fiber of her being yelled in distress. Not like this, not alone. But she remained frozen, and could only watch as Nate came closer and closer. His journey through the room constantly delayed by people shaking his hand, offering him their congratulations or patting him on the back. He was not more than five enthusiastic greetings away when Blair was rescued from their encounter.

"Blair!" Serena's voice cut through her haze as the blonde threw her arms around Blair's neck and hugged her tight, blocking Nate from her view completely. "Oh my God, B, it's so great to see you! When did you get here? I've missed you so much!" Serena exclaimed. Hugging her best friend tight, Blair took a deep breath, taking in the familiar scent of strawberry shampoo.

"I missed you too," Blair smiled, and could feel tears burning in the corners of her eyes. Forcing the tears away, she let out another calming breathe before letting go of Serena and stepping back to look at the blonde. "Look at you, S! You look amazing!"

Chuck was making his way back to Blair, drinks in hand, when he saw her freeze up and the mask of polite indifference slipping for a moment. Something inside of him froze. Speeding up, he was only a few feet away from her, when she was suddenly wrapped up in a cloud of blonde hair, blue chiffon and joyous shrieks. The best friend, he assumed, standing back to watch the reunion taking place in front of him. He also took his chance to examine the blonde currently smothering his date in a loving embrace. She was definitely something to rest your eyes on. If you liked to be temporarily blinded. Alright, this was getting ridiculous. There is a gorgeous blonde mere feet away, and he was complaining about her being _too_ hot?

He watched Blair pull back, and smile at the blonde still with her arms around her neck. She looked relieved, and happy. He took it as his cue. "Ladies," He greeted as he walked up them and handed over the drinks he was holding, wrapping an arm around Blair's waist in the meantime.

"Serena, this is Chuck," Blair introduced them, "Chuck, this is my best friend Serena."

Serena tilted her head a little to the side as she took him in. Lots of practice made sure he didn't miss the quick one-over she gave him, before her expression molded into one of polite interest. "Nice to meet you," Serena smiled, and giggled as he took her hand and kissed it chivalrously.

"The pleasure's all mine," Chuck replied, "I've heard a lot about you."

"That's funny," Serena replied and gave Blair a look that made her breath hitch slightly before she continued, "I haven't heard a word about you."

"Have you kept me your dirty, little secret?" Chuck smirked, leaning in close to Blair's ear. Intrigued by this, up until recently, hidden masochistic side of himself. What other reason could he possibly have for getting so close to that tempting neck of hers? So close her perfume invaded his senses. But he needed to win the blonde over, and something told him that the 'smitten boyfriend' might be just what Serena wanted to see. "I like it."

Blair let out a huff at his words, but had no time to reproach before Serena broke out in a fit of giggles, "Chuck, do you mind if I steal your date away for a while?"

"Not at all," He replied, sending Blair a last heated look before letting go, and not faking it nearly as much as he normally would have. Blair smiled a somewhat shaky smile and mouthed a silent 'sorry' as the blonde dragged her towards the doors leading out onto the patio. He shrugged his shoulder dismissively. Once the two of them were out of his sight, he headed for the bar. He could really use a drink.

XOXO

"Blair Cornelia Waldorf!" Serena shrieked as soon as they were in a secluded corner of the patio, "Where did you find _him_?"

"I guess he found me," Blair replied, feeling bad about lying to her friend. But really, some things are not meant to be shared with others, not even your BFF. And the part of Chuck being the one who found her, and not the other way around, wasn't a lie. He had found her. Sure she had been the one who called him, convinced him to go with her and then paid him 6000 dollars for his troubles. But he started it.

"I can't believe you haven't told me about him!" Serena rambled on, and downed some of the bubbling champagne in her glass, "He is gorgeous!"

The sting of protective jealousy was unexpected and brief. "I guess he doesn't look half bad." Blair sighed, and Serena nudged her gently in the ribs, a giddy laugh escaping her lips.

"He most certainly isn't bad looking, that's for sure," The blonde laughed, but then her expression changed to one of sincerity. "I'm so glad you came, B. This wouldn't have felt right without you here."

"You mean it wouldn't have felt to watch my ex-fiancé marry Poppy Lifton of all people, without me here to witness it all?" Blair sneered, and immediately regretted her harsh tone when Serena's face fell. Serena reached out for her hand, and Blair had to force herself not to pull away from the touch. She didn't want pity or condescending glances, she couldn't stand them. She was well-trained in the pity department herself, no further additions necessary.

"I'm sorry B," Serena breathed, "I understand this must be really weird for you. But Nate is still one of our oldest friends, we grew up together and we need to be here for this." Blair scoffed at the nostalgic rant, but knew Serena was right. If only being the good friend didn't hurt as much.

"And besides," Serena winked, "You have Chuck now."

XOXO

When they returned back inside the ballroom a while later, Serena finally having run out of questions about 'Mr.-tie-me-up-tie-me-down' (the blonde's new nickname for Chuck. Blair was not amused. The image of Chuck and rope in her head was a little too…vivid, for her likings), and Blair having deftly avoided to really answer any of them, Serena excused herself to go find the restroom.

Blair spotted Chuck by the bar almost immediately, he was casually leaning against the counter on one elbow, a tumbler in his other hand. He was talking to someone obscured from her view by dancing couples. As she made her way through the room, the scene unfolded in front of her eyes. Chuck was talking to _him_. At this point she began to wonder if whoever deities responsible for this catastrophe of a wedding, still held a grudge or two against her? That until she realized the great opportunity she was presented with. Deities of the world, the game is on.

"Honey!" Blair beamed, the smile felt so fake she feared her carefully applied foundation might melt and fall off her face. Carefully ignoring to even acknowledge Nate's presence in the slightest, she slid an arm around Chuck's waist and nuzzled close to him. "I missed you," she purred adoringly in a show worthy of an Academy Award for best greeting-of-the-rented-boyfriend.

Chuck moved the tumbler to the one of his hands still resting on the bar, and moved his now free hand to rest low on Blair's hip. The chiffon of her black dress smooth against his palm. He pulled her closer, sensing the reason of her sudden interest in PDA.

"Nate!" Blair smiled, pretending to notice him only then. Her head still resting against Chuck's shoulder. "I didn't see you there."

_(Blair Waldorf - evil deities of the world, 1-2.)_

"Blair," Nate greeted her nervously. He was uncomfortable with the situation, Blair could tell, and it brought her immense satisfaction. She is forced to attend his wedding to another woman, and he is the one to be uncomfortable with the situation? Serves him well. Nate had never been good at hiding his emotions. When he had first started courting her (her mother's words, not Blair's) they're families had been going on and on about how he was so obviously smitten with Blair, she might as well have worn his heart on her sleeve. "You look great." Nate continued with a ghost of that boyish smile she adored playing on his lips. No, _used_ to adore. Past tense - very important.

"I feel great," Blair replied in a wink. Alright, maybe she was overdoing it a little, but Nate had never been the one to pick up on subtle hints. "I see that you've met Chuck, my _boyfriend_." She continued, and made sure to accentuate the word boyfriend, diverting her eyes from her former husband-to-be to gaze adoringly at Chuck. His dark eyes were flashing in barely concealed mirth, but he kept his poker face intact.

"We bumped into each other a minute ago," Chuck told her, "But we hadn't gotten much further than the introductions."

"There will be time, I'm sure." Blair said breezily, and returned her focus to Nate. "Where is that fiancée of yours hiding?"

She should have known that getting too self-satisfied would come with instant retribution. She had barely finished the sentence before Nate was surrounded by the whirlwind that was Poppy Lifton, soon to be Archibald.

"Baby!" Poppy exclaimed, and threw herself at Nate, peppering him with kisses. When Nate squirmed and tried to wipe the lip-gloss of his face, Poppy broke out laughing, hanging from her grip around Nate's neck. The brunette was probably two cosmos past tipsy. Nate wouldn't be please by this breach of etiquette, of that Blair was certain. He had never been the one for obvious displays of affection. Always too worried about what people would say or think. And with people he usually meant his parents and their conceited friends.

When Nate didn't object, but only pulled Poppy closer and proceeded to shove his tongue down her throat, Blair felt like the world has just been turned upside down. Who was that guy who looked just like _her_ Nate, but acted nothing like him? As the couple finally came up for air, the look on Nate's face (adoring and ridiculously happy), she felt something inside of her crack. Her self-preservation instincts kicked in, and she was only a breath away from running, when she could feel Chuck tighten his grip on her hip. A silent encouragement for her to stay and to breathe. He had a point. She was Blair Waldorf. She doesn't run and hide.

"I guess congratulations are in order," she smiled, and this time she was sure that she could feel her face crack, a spear of hurt piercing her gut.

"Thanks," Nate replied, a blush suddenly tinting his cheeks.

Poppy's expression brightened as her eyes fell on Blair. "Blair!" The brunette cried out excitedly, "How awesome of you to come tonight!" She stumbled forward and embraced Blair too in a suffocating hug. "And you brought a date with you, that's so cute!"

_(Blair Waldorf - evil deities of the world, 1-3. Time-out.)_

XOXO

She was muttering under her breath as they took the limo back to her mother's apartment later in the evening. When they exited the elevator and walked the stairs she was still doing it, and if it was possible Chuck might even have said that the infuriated mumbling intensified as they approached her bedroom. She had barely said a word since their little run-in with Malibu Ken and his way past tipsy fiancée.

When they entered her bedroom, Blair turned into a clothes-chucking, jewelry-spitting and cushion-throwing tornado. Chuck watched her in silent silence. These madwoman tendencies both amusing and a little scary. As she stomped out of the bathroom, he quickly took her place in the tiled floor sanctuary.

He returned moments later, the navy silk of his pajama pants pooling around his feet, he had to stifle a laugh. The bed looked like a fort a child would build on a rainy day. There were pillows everywhere. "Are you sure the pillows have enough room?" He drawled, and the smirk on his face broadened as Blair shot him a murderous look, adding more pillows to the pile she had created in the middle of the bed. She then proceeded to position herself on one side of the Chinese wall of cushions that she had created, and pulled the covers over her head with a huff.

She might have built a ridge in the middle of the bed, but Blair could still feel the movement of the mattress as Chuck got into bed. Suddenly the bed felt small, and not only because the pillows were taking up most of the space. He was moving around for a while, then settled and let out a content sigh. Blair was on edge. Did he fall asleep already? Just like that? She waited for a while, and then lifted her head to sneak a peek over the mountain of pillows. Chuck was on his back with his eyes closed. One arm slung casually over his abdomen, the other one over his head, underneath one of the only pillows left from her construction work. He looked…delectable, she decided as her gaze trailed his features. Like he would…

"Are you expecting a lullaby, since you're looking at me like that, or were you planning on turning out the light anytime soon?" Chuck's voice interrupted her trail of thought, his eyes still closed, and she felt her face go crimson red.

There was a jiggle in the mattress, the sound of a lamp switch flicking, and then the room was engulfed in darkness. Chuck could feel her move around, and then she settled with a huff. A chuckle escaped his lips. "Goodnight, Blair." There was few seconds of silence before she replied, sounding less annoyed than earlier.

"Goodnight."

XOXO

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_Thanks for reading!_

_Please review!_

_Camilla_


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N**_

_**PLEASE READ: Some of you are mentioning that this is eerily familiar to a movie called the Wedding Date and that I shouldn't pretend like it's my idea. I did mention it in the first chapter, both in the AN and in the disclaimer, and thought that would be enough. Well, I'm saying it again; This plot of this fic is inspired by, and loosely based on, a movie named the Wedding Date. **_

_**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Gossip Girl or the Wedding Date. No copyright infringement intended.**_

_With that said. Thank you so much for the feedback on the last chapter! You guys are the best, I'm glad you're enjoying this fic, I have a lot of fun writing it! :)_

_This chapter has been beta'd by the awesome **Abby - BookCaseGirl.** Thank you!!!_

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Still caught in the moment between sleep and lucidity Blair stretched lazily and moved closer to the form next to her, revelling in the warmth and the feeling of an arm draped over her body. She was about to fall back into complete unconsciousness when there was a movement beside her. A movement that also stirred her consciousness. An arm, not her own. Warmth, not from the covers. The steady rise and fall of her pillow. Pillow? Oh crap. Blair awoke with a jolt.

"Who, what, when, where, why?" She cried out bewildered, blushing furiously as she nearly threw herself off the bed and away from Chuck, who she had up until now been close to lying on top of.

"What the fuck?" Chuck grumbled, propping himself up on one elbow and rubbing his face with his hand. "Is it your plan to kill me off in a heart-attack before this weekend's over?"

"The pillows are all on the floor!" Blair pointed out snappily, "They were in the bed, and now they're not!"

"Well," Chuck drawled, and ran a hand through his hair. "When you decided to jump me -"

"I did no-" Blair began, but Chuck paid no attention to her objection.

"- in my sleep, my side of the bed got a little crowded with both you and the Chinese wall of pillows there. So I tossed them on the floor."

"You did _what_?"

"You didn't seem to mind," Chuck smirked, cocking an eyebrow in her direction. The flustered look he had begun to appreciate yesterday was only enhanced by her messed up curls and the fullness that sleep had brought to her lips. "Not one bit, actually." He, for one, hadn't minded at all when he woke up to find Blair nestled closely to his side, her leg slung over his hip and her face buried in the crock of his neck. Nope, he hadn't been bothered at all. A part of him kept telling himself that he should probably be bothered about that, but as of right now he preferred not to listen.

"Please," Blair scoffed, suddenly very aware of her, and Chuck's, state of undress. "I was asleep."

"Whatever gets you through the day." Chuck chuckled as he got out of bed and stretched leisurely. The pajama pants he wore hung low on his hips and he looked pleasantly dishevelled. He was showing off, Blair decided. He is just messing with you. But as he finished the stretch with a roll of his head and looked at her, she couldn't find a trace of humour in his gaze. Tingles ran down her spine as he slowly moved across the room towards where she was standing. She suddenly felt very, very undressed in her pink, silky slip and bit her lip in apprehension. Her state of undress should probably leave her feeling cold, but she experienced quite the opposite feeling as Chuck came to a halt inches away from her. So close she could feel the heat emanating from his body, setting her own skin on fire. He was looking down on her, a determined look on his eyes.

"What are you doing?" Blair whispered. Her voice didn't quite sound like it normally did. Chuck didn't reply, but reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand. She leaned into his touch without thinking, her brain going blank as he slowly traced her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

"Nothing," He murmured, giving up the battle he was fighting with himself, and leaning in-

The knock at the door startled them both. Blair jumped back in surprise, colliding with her vanity. A sharp pain struck her hip as it made contact with the corner of the desk.

"Ms. Blair?" Dorota greeted them from behind the door. "Breakfast is served. Mrs. Rose say you come down now."

"We'll be right there," Blair replied with an audible strain to her voice and rubbed her sore hip with a grimace. "Just a second."

XOXO

"I can't believe they're forcing us to participate in this," Blair grumbled as they made their way across the green, plush grass towards the place where the picnic was set up in the midst of Central Park.

Chuck watched her in silent amusement, not failing to notice how her slender legs seemed endless in the v-necked, floral dress with a pink belt encircling her waist that she was currently sporting. She was all about dressing the part, he decided, and did it without great effort.

"Oh, dear God. They've brought a football." The dismay in Blair's voice was tangible and didn't fail to let anyone within a twenty foot radius know exactly what she felt about her ex and his friend's choice of pass-time.

"Your ex did mention something about a girls versus guys flag football game," Chuck mused. He managed to keep a straight face long enough for Blair to go pale, but then his eyes betrayed him.

"Ugh, that's not funny!" Blair cried, and swatted his shoulder in indignation. "As if this hobo setting wasn't enough of a horror."

"Blair, Chuck!" Serena spotted them almost immediately as they approached the picnic area. If you can call a professional chef and his six people staff preparing a barbeque and serving champagne on silver trays a picnic. There were tables with white, linen tablecloths and vases filled with pink roses. Blair greeted her friend with a hug and accepted a flute of champagne from one of the waiters.

They spent a good amount of time talking about nothing in particular, both Blair and Serena enjoying the ability to have a conversation face to face after months on surviving solemnly on phone calls and emails. Chuck made a comment every now and then, but spent most of his time watching Blair, his hand resting at the small of her back. Blair was surprised by how natural it felt to have him around, and most certainly didn't fail to notice the shivers that ran down her spine when his hand made contact with her body. She found herself stealing glimpses of him more than once, taking in his checked shirt and brown shorts. Serena noticed her attention on their conversation faltering every now and then, smiling mischievously at her friend's behaviour.

"I feel like I recognize you from somewhere, Chuck." Serena said, directing her attention towards Chuck with a tilt of her head. "Did you go to Rawley?" The blonde continued, referring to the boarding school she attended for a while during high school.

Chuck's hand, that up until that moment had been drawing lazy circles on Blair's back, froze. Glancing over to him from the corner of her eye, Blair could see the momentary panic that crossed his features before he pulled himself back together.

"No, I went to school abroad." Chuck replied, cursing fierily on the inside. He could only pray that Serena would let the subject go and not press the matter further. So that was the reason why the blonde had looked vaguely familiar yesterday. Fuck.

"Switzerland, right?" Blair interjected nonchalantly. He seemed to be leaving something out. But not in the 'I'm a freaking _gigolo_ so I make up stories all the time', kind of way, this was different.

"Right," Chuck agreed, and breathed an inwardly sigh of relief. "I went to school in Switzerland."

Serena didn't look fully convinced, but let it go with a shrug of her shoulder. "Probably," she agreed, "There's just something eerily familiar about you."

"You sure your memories from those years can really be trusted, S?" Blair smirked and laughed when Serena shot her a cross look. "You did have your fair share of late nights and cosmos back then."

XOXO

"I don't think I've ever seen you this relaxed with anyone, B." Serena said later on when Chuck was busy talking to some of Poppy's friends, tucking a stray lock of hair back in place in her deliberately messy up-do.

"Are you saying I'm not a relaxed person?" Blair replied in mock offence, and ignored the barely noticeable, joyous swirl in her stomach as she did. Serena laughed, and one look from the blonde was all it took for Blair to break out laughing too. Delight surged through her bloodstream like the bubbly champagne in her glass.

"I wouldn't exactly call you the poster child for low-maintenance and stress-reduced." Serena sniggered, "You just look, I don't know, at ease? Like you don't have to try so hard around him."

_Like you did around Nate._ The words hung unspoken in the air and Blair's laughter died in her throat. This whole weekend wasn't turning out nearly as bad as she had previously predicted, and the realization was a little unnerving.

"It looks like they're about to start playing," Serena interrupted her thoughts and nodded towards an open space where Nate and some other guys were busy preparing for the game. Some of the guys were taking their shirts off, the football flying through the air from player to player and more than often aimed at Nate who laughed and ducked for cover.

"I need to go save Chuck from the brutalities of Nate and his cousins." Blair explained hurriedly as Nate began walking towards Chuck, and Serena's laughter followed her as she moved across the lawn towards the two men.

XOXO

"I owe you," Chuck grimaced. Blair had came to his rescue and saved him from the horror of the Neanderthal man-to-man bonding activities most of the other guys were currently participating in. They had been walking in a wide circle around the field where the picnic was taking place, talking about anything and everything. In that second one of the guys playing was tackled, and soon most players were huddled in a heap on the ground. The appalled look on Chuck's face matched hers.

"Somehow I don't think your insurance would cover that." Blair replied, her relaxed mood evaporating quickly as she did. She felt really comfortable in his company, and somehow the notion that she was paying him to be nice and charming was disappointing. He was witty, with a sarcastic sense of humour that didn't fail to make her laugh, intelligent and definitely pleasant enough to look at. He seemed to have ability to shift and adjust himself to any occasion with a never wavering confidence as well as that devilish smirk. "Do a lot of women want to sleep with you?" The question escaped her lips before she could stop it, and the second it did Blair wanted to run and hide. What on earth had possessed her to ask _that_ question?

"It's not about sex."

"Really?" They were slowly making their way closer to the others now. The game was over and abandoned in favour for drinks and amicable taunting between the exhausted players.

"Really," Chuck agreed as the two of them came to a stop. When he took a step closer to her, aligning his body so that they were face to face, Blair could feel that now almost familiar surge of electricity from that morning return, vibrating in the air between them. Had the feeling been any less consuming she would have laughed at the ludicrous intensity of it.

"It's not about the sex," Chuck repeated, his hand moving from her neck up to cup her face. His breath hot against her skin as he leaned in closer. "It's about feeling desirable." He murmured against her skin and then moved to the other side of her face, his free hand coming to rest low on her back and pulling her close against him. "Wanted."

Blair couldn't breathe. There was definitely nothing even slightly hilarious about the way her mind seemed to fog over in the same time as her body seemed more alive than ever.

"Your ex is watching us," Chuck's husky voice interrupted her haze. He was still holding her close. Very, very close. Her hand had somehow snaked around his waist, the cotton of his shirt crisp against her skin. She should have been pleased by his comment but found it hard to focus on Nate in that moment. Especially when Chuck continued, "You wanted him to know what he is missing, right? Do you trust me?" He asked her, pulling back so that his forehead was pressed against hers.

"Huh?" She could barely form a single word, her tongue felt too big for her mouth and her heart was beating furiously in her chest. The look in his eyes, dark and burning with something she would have said bordered on desire had she not known who he was and what he did for a living, was distracting. Right, he had asked her a question. Did she trust him? "Yes."

The corner of his mouth tugged into a smirk at that, his grip around her jaw tightening. Then he leaned in, and the world went cloudy. Their lips brushed together, barely making contact, in a sensual caress. She found herself closing her eyes and sucked in a breath in reaction to the rush of energy that flowed through her system. When he pulled back, way too soon, she felt a pang of disappointment and furrowed her brows in confusion.

"Sometimes the small things make more of an impression." Chuck finished and had to swallow hard in a vain attempt to get his heart out of his throat. "He is still looking at you."

"Oh," Her lips still tingled from his touch, "right. I need to go and, talk…to Serena about, something." Blair lied, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. This is bad, she thought as she walked off, really, really bad. You just had to go and develop some kind of lame crush on the _gigolo_, that's just perfect. Who needs the deities of the world as your enemies when you mess things up for yourself just fine?

"Blair?" Nate's voice interrupted her inner rant, and she looked up in shock. He still looked a little flushed from the game, his light blue shirt wrinkled and full of grass stains. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

'We went out for years; you proposed to me, left me at the altar and are marrying another woman while I still subconsciously obsess over you. No you can't have another second of my time, you don't deserve it'. Was what she _didn't_ say. She opted for the less crazily honest response. "Sure."

They walked together and she kept stealing glances of Nate as they did. It was like looking in a yearbook from High School, she realized, and could still remember when looking at him had equalled looking at her dreams and her future. She had been so, content, ready to be his wife. It felt childish, looking back on those years now, how she'd skilfully avoided thinking about anything that dare mess up her fairy-tale ending.

"So, this is kind of odd," Nate began. That uneasy look from yesterday back on his face. "I mean, you and me, this -" he went on, gesturing to the scenery in front of them as he talked, then trailed off and returned his gaze to her. "I don't know, it feels weird."

Weird? Way to point out the obvious. "I guess you could say that." Blair replied icily, but not with the venom behind her words that she would have expected from herself. Her words did however cause Nate to flinch and shoot her an apologetic look. "Would you stop looking at me like that?" She snapped, all of a sudden fed up with it all. "Stop looking at me like I'm about to break down and fall apart! I'm so sick of the pitying glances and gossip-y whispers!"

"I get that," Nate interjected hurriedly, and she instantly regretted her harsh tone. She had never really snapped at him like that when they were dating, she thought. She had been all smiles and silences. Even when some things he did or said had her wanting to scream and pull her hair. And now all she felt was tired. Tired of being hung up on something that ended a long time ago. Something that never really quite was what she had made it up to be.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I'm just so sick of this, you and me, all our history. I love you, Nate, I really do. But I'm not _in love_ with you. I don't think I have been for a long, long time." Her own words brought a wave of relief washing over her when she realized that she was telling the truth. She had been more in love with the idea of 'Blair and Nate' and 'Mrs Blair Archibald, Queen of the UES' than Nate himself. The fairy-tale that was their relationship always a little more alluring than reality.

"Well, uhm, good." Nate frowned, and then offered her a sheepish smile. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I didn't treat you right." She smiled weakly at that, folding her arms across her chest.

"You really do love her, don't you?" She replied, and Nate recognized her acceptance of his apology in her question. They both looked over to Poppy. The brunette was busy laughing and talking with Serena and some other girls.

"Yes," Nate's smile broadened, briefly meeting her eyes, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his navy shorts. "I do. I'm sorry, I don't -"

"Don't be sorry, Nate." She cut him off with a hand on his arm. "It's okay, you're getting married and I-"

"You're with Chuck." This time it was Nate's time to interrupt. Blair's gaze instantly travelled across the lawn to where Chuck was standing. As if he could feel her eyes on him, Chuck turned around and looked at her.

"Yes," She replied absentmindedly, a jittery whirl of nervousness in her gut as Chuck made his way over to them. "I am."

"Hey man, we missed you during the game." Nate greeted Chuck as he reached them.

"I had more urgent business to attend to," Chuck smirked, and Blair could feel her cheeks heat up at the memory of their almost kiss.

"Right," Nate laughed, and Blair breathed a sigh of relief. She was so happy that the cloud still hanging over their heads since their earlier conversation seemed to evaporate. "I should go," Nate continued, looking over to Poppy who was gesturing wildly for him to come over. "I guess I'll see you later tonight, at the bachelor's party?" He directed his last question to Chuck, who raised his chin in agreement.

Nate walked off and broke into a jog as he approached his fiancée. Poppy was all smiles as she put her arms around him and brushed some stray lock of hair out of his face before kissing him softly. Blair kept her eyes firmly on the two of them, and to her surprise she didn't feel the expected blow of pain.

"You okay?" Chuck inquired. He could tell that she was exhausted from her conversation with her ex.

"Yes." Blair answered after a moment's thought and when she looked over to him and smiled he could tell that she was in fact telling him the truth. "Unless you factor in the horrid ritual that I'm expected to participate in a few hours from now. An experience that will most likely involve jell-o shots, loud squealing and embarrassing, public behaviour."

Chuck laughed. "I take it you didn't have a bachelorette party yourself?"

Blair scoffed and flipped a mass of dark curls over her shoulder. "As a matter of fact, I did. But it was classy and civilized."

"No Chippendales?"

She could feel her lips curve into a smile at his question, and stepped closer to him. "Oh, I don't need to hire strippers," Her smile widened when she noticed the way his breath hitched. Maybe she hadn't misinterpreted his signals earlier? She gently brushed her lips along his jaw line before whispering in his ear, "I've got moves."

XOXO

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_Thanks for reading!_

_Review?! :)_

_Camilla_


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N** Thank you so much for the reviews guys, you're awesome! I'm sorry this update took a while, with school out for summer, real life decided to pick up pace instead, and I try to alternate between this and HWG. Don't want any of my fics to feel neglected ;)_

_Virtual cookies to ChairBear and teddy bear (lots of bears reading my fics. lol) for pointing out that the outfits in the last chapter came from 2x01._

_A huge thank you to my lovely friend **Noirreigne**, for doing some much needed beta'ing on this chapter! _

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gossip Girl or the Wedding Date. No copyright infringement intended_

* * *

The tension between the two of them increased as they left the picnic, but this time it was a tension of the awkward kind. As if with no one around to see their displays of 'made up' affection, neither of them was sure of how to act or what to say. Chuck was confused, unused to not knowing exactly how to behave around a date, wondering when he crossed over the line from strictly professional to something else. He had been doing this kind of thing for a while after all, and with his never ending self-esteem deemed himself as great at it too. Womanizing might be a career choice and a way to make a living now, but it had been a favorite pass-time, and mote in the eye of his father, long before the first outing as a 'professional'. Some people might have a problem with the…moral aspects of the trade, but he couldn't care less. Some people could go fuck themselves. Literally. He viewed his occupation as means to a goal, and as a way to say 'fuck you' to his old man in the meantime. Even when his father had no idea about his current position. So he might have ventured into the 'business of pleasure' out of childish spite, so what? Old, bitter memories resurfaced and put a frown on his face before he could do anything to stop them.

Chuck had barely spoken a word during the ride back to the Waldorf penthouse, and Blair had found herself glancing over to him constantly. When he let out an annoyed breath and frowned, she had to fight the urge to reach out and touch his hand that was balled into a fist on the black leather seat. His change of mood was unsettling, and together with the tension in the air it made for a very uncomfortable car ride. She watched him in silence as they got out of the limo, him holding the door open for her as usual, and made their way up to her mother's apartment. Once inside the small compartment Blair could no longer keep quiet; "Is something wrong?"

His head snapped toward her as she spoke. "No," he replied without a moment's thought, but the frown on his forehead only deepened as he did. Blair scowled, confused by his behavior, and the heavy silence returned.

He seemed to relax when Eleanor was the first person they spotted as they walked through the doors of the elevator. His arm found its way around her waist, and the frown on his face was replaced with a politely welcoming expression. "There you are," Eleanor greeted them, tugging at the pearls around her neck in a distracted manner. "I assume the two of you will be joining us for dinner?"

"We could," Blair replied, mentally estimating the time they had before the bachelor/bachelorette parties were to begin, and the time it would take to get ready before that.

"Good." Eleanor nodded in consent before heading down the hall toward the dining room, her heels clicking against the floor. "Dorota will be serving the appetizers in fifteen minutes," her mother informed them over her shoulder as she walked away, "perhaps you ought to get freshened up before that, Blair? You look a little flushed."

Her mother's comment had Blair's expression challenging Chuck for 'frown of the week'. Occupied with swallowing the acid reply burning at the tip of her tongue, she didn't notice the way Chuck silently noticed her change of mood. He realized he had just witnessed the first example of the difficult mother-daughter relationship Blair had mentioned the day before. In his opinion she looked perfectly fine. More than fine.

They made their way up the stairs. Chuck proceeded with checking his phone for messages from a lounging position on the chaise, whilst Blair moved between the bathroom and her vanity. Finding his voicemail void of any interesting news, Chuck quickly took to watching her as she pulled a brush through her curls, re-applied her lip gloss and smoothed out some invisible wrinkles in her dress. "Do you want me to change?" He asked, interrupting her self-scrutiny, feeling that if he didn't distract her, the disapproving frown on her face would stick forever. It had been either that, or ask her whether her mirrors came from Coney Island. Because the way she seemed to see an ogre in her reflection where he saw classic beauty and grace, there must be something wrong with her mirror.

"What?" She turned around to face him, and her expression softened a little at his casual position. He looked like he belonged there on her chaise, much more at ease than minutes ago. "No, absolutely not, you look perfectly fine."

In the same second they could hear Dorota call out for them from downstairs. Chuck got up from his seat in one swift movement and offered an arm chivalrously to Blair. She rolled her eyes at his unnecessary gesture, but linked her arm with his none the less. Secretly pleased that his mood seemed to have lifted at least a little, and enjoying the physical contact as well.

XOXO

A stuffed, blue cheese chicken followed the appetizers, the dish served on frail china being carefully put down on the white starched linen cloth by a smiling Dorota. The maid overjoyed with having both her protégé and her latest favorite 'Mr. Chuck' at the table for dinner. The last rays of sunlight were falling through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the dining room, quiet music playing in the background. Chuck found the setting both amusing and quite familiar, even though family dinners had not exactly been common protocol for him growing up. But the semi-awkward mood, the classical background music and the heavy silverware was definitely familiar. He found himself engrossed in a discussion with Cyrus about Cyrus' work. The conversation however, did not demand his attention to the point where he failed to notice how Blair was merely picking at her food. When a piece of chicken was left in its third different position on her still not-close-to-empty plate, he was about to catch her attention when Eleanor spoke up.

"Blair, I need you to give me Serena's number later," Eleanor told her daughter, piercing a piece of steamed asparagus with her fork.

Blair started, just about managing to keep from dropping her knife against the fragile china, and looked up at her mother, eyes wide with confusion. "Why?" Eleanor frowned at her question and Blair scolded herself inwardly, she should know better than to object like that by now. But what could her mother possibly want with Serena's number? An icy lump of insecurity began forming in her chest.

"We're about to shoot the campaign for the new line, and we want someone young and fresh faced, that doesn't look as if she's grown up in a Siberian Gulag." Her mother explained, finishing in order to have a sip of wine from the pristine crystal glass.

"You want Serena to model for your campaign?" Blair repeated incredulously, and Chuck watched as the tiny piece of chicken was shuffled another quarter lap around her plate. He could see her fingers tighten around the silverware, and noticed how she almost invisibly straightened her back against the dark wood of the chair. The urge to reach out and take her hand in his caught him off guard.

"Why her? She isn't exactly a professional model, mother." Blair continued, the lump in her chest only growing further, tentacles of piercing ice spreading in her chest. Why Serena and not her?

"Don't be ridiculous, Serena would be perfect." Eleanor disagreed, completely oblivious to her daughter's distress. "She is gorgeous - vivacious and charming. I would be lucky to have her represent my company. I expect you to leave her number with me before you go back to San Francisco. Now, Blair - for heaven's sake - stop playing around with your food. Really, I thought you were over that childish behavior."

"Dear," Cyrus interrupted, and Chuck could have kissed the man's 300 dollar loafers in that second. He could only stare at Eleanor in disbelief. Was it even humanly possible for her not to notice the hurt in her daughter's eyes?

"If you'll excuse me," Blair grit out, the lump in her chest having grown too big to swallow down or ignore any longer. The chair scraping against the floor momentarily deafened the aria playing in the background, as she got out of her seat. "I've lost my appetite." She spat and pulled the napkin off her lap, folding it neatly in harsh motions before leaving it on the table. The exasperated eye roll from Eleanor didn't pass by unnoticed by either Blair or Chuck. Fed up, Blair stalked out of the dining room. Chuck followed her with his eyes as she walked off. After sharing a brief moment of eye contact with an apologetic-looking Cyrus, he too excused himself and followed her after making a detour to the kitchen. He told himself it all came down to playing the part, but the uneasy feeling in his gut told a slightly different story.

She assumed it was old habits dying hard that led her to the bathroom. She knew she was being ridiculous and was a little embarrassed that her mother's words still got to her like that. She didn't have a 'problem' with food anymore, not like that time during ninth grade when her father left and moved to France. But she still found herself in the bathroom sometimes during the less than glorious moments of her life. Maybe it was the sanctuary the room used to entail, the promise of release, even when that was also mixed with a sliver of anxiety. She really didn't care what her sub-conscious reasons were, but it was in the bathroom Chuck found her.

"Blair?" He called out softly from where he stood in the doorway, hand resting on the doorframe and worry making a crease form on his forehead. The devastated look on her face was gut-wrenching. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, you should have stayed downstairs, finished your dinner." Blair snapped. She let go of the counter top and marched passed him with a final glance in the direction of the toilet. Not used to being in company at times like these she wasn't sure how to behave. She had never allowed herself to fall apart in front of anyone, not Serena, not Nate . No-one. She barely allowed herself to do so when she was alone, giving up control was never something she did without a fight. Even if the battle was against herself and her emotions. "I need to get ready for tonight." She continued, the dismissal clear in her voice.

"Aren't you hungry? You barely ate." Chuck persisted, watching as she began rummaging through a drawer in her dresser. It wasn't that he couldn't recognize a brush-off when he experienced one, he just couldn't let this go when she was so clearly upset. In that moment he truly despised her mother for being the reason behind the pain in her eyes.

"Nope," she snapped, closing the drawer with a bang. When she marched passed him, standing in the middle of the room, he couldn't leave well enough alone any longer.

"Hey," he murmured and reached out for her hand. "Slow down there, movie star." She jerked away from his touch and shot him a last 'fuck off'-look, but he persisted. "Come here," he continued as he finally got a hold of her delicate wrist and pulled her closer to him. She slumped visibly, and stumbled into his open arms. A small sob escaping her lips.

Appalled by her own behavior she still couldn't keep from nuzzling closer to him. His arms found their way around her as she buried her face in the crock of his neck. A few more sobs made their way up her throat and she found herself clinging to him, his hand gently rubbing her neck. It was over almost before it started, the tears melting the spears of ice piercing her insides. Despair soon replaced with embarrassment.

He could feel her tense up, and when she attempted to pull back he let go, shockingly reluctant. She wiped her cheeks with a hollow laugh. "I'm sorry," she grimaced, picking at some invisible lint on her dress. "I'm acting like a fool. Not to mention how you must think I'm the world's lousiest friend."

"What? No." Chuck objected, shoving his hands down his pockets to keep his fingers from twitching from the urge to reach out for her again. "You had every right to be upset, your mother-"

"My mother was being her normal, ignorant self." Blair interjected, and her tone of voice definitely told him to change the subject. At that point they were interrupted by a knock on the door. Blair looked at him in alarm. Chuck called out to the visitor. Pleased when Dorota walked in carrying a tray laden with an assortment of fresh fruit, crackers and cream cheese.

"Thank you, Dorota, you're a godsend." Chuck drawled, all but clasping his hands together in content. The maid blushed fiercely at his compliment as she put the tray down on the bed. There were bottles of water there too, standing beside a platter of neatly cut slices of melon.

"Such a charmer, Mr. Chuck." Dorota admonished, and then turned her attention toward her protégé, her expression molding into one of kindhearted concern. "You eat something, Ms. Blair, you have big party tonight."

"Thank you, Dorota." Blair sighed; ignoring the nagging voice at the back of her head that told her she shouldn't eat, knowing it was wrong. And the light snack the maid had brought did look appetizing. She guessed that Chuck had asked the maid for what she used to bring her young Ms. at times when she wasn't feeling well. She watched as Chuck sat down at the head of the bed, a delighted noise escaping him as he found grapes on the tray.

"We have plenty of time," he pointed out when she didn't immediately join him on the bed, plopping a grape in his mouth. With a final glace over at the clock on the wall, that told her that they did indeed have more than enough time for his impromptu picnic, she forwent protocol and kicked off her shoes and sat down at the foot of the bed. She helped herself to a cracker, and was nibbling on the edge when he spoke up again. "It's not going to poison you, you know."

"What?" Blair looked up and found that he was smirking at her, helping himself to more grapes. Once again looking so damn at ease and confident, lounging on her bed with his back against the headboard.

"The cracker," he explained, jovially plopping another grape in his mouth, "you look as if it might bite you or something. I know it's a salty one, but I'm fairly sure the poisonous tendencies found with saltine crackers have been taken care of in the latest years of research."

The last part of his comment had her laughing despite the standard of his joke. With a dramatic gesture she stuffed the rest of the cracker in her mouth, raising her eyebrows at him in challenge as she did. He nodded in exaggerated content, and the tiny sting of anxiety wasn't as bad as it could have been as she swallowed.

He noticed, relieved and pleased, how she reached for a slice of melon next, and threw a water bottle in her direction. The bottle bouncing on the bed and landing by her foot. "I used to be bulimic." The words hung in the air for a second. Blair shocked by her own confession, and Chuck momentarily stunned. Bulimic? The beautiful, witty and intelligent creature in front of him? It made absolutely no sense. Then he remembered her mother's words, and was filled with an even greater level of contempt for the woman. He knew all about how much work it took with trying to please chronically disappointed parents. If he ever had kids, he would make damn sure he never put them through the disapproving glares or ridiculously high standards that some parents seemed to be experts on providing their offspring with. (When the fuck did he start thinking about kids?) He realized she was expecting some kind of reaction to the minor bomb she had just dropped, and looked over to her as if to say 'go on'.

She felt oddly relieved when he didn't bombard her with questions or objections to why she would ever consider such a destructive act. She wasn't sure she could explain it to begin with. But she found herself telling him about it, trying to explain the insecurities and the sense of relief. He listened in silence, only silently motioning to her every now and then to keep eating. When she had finished silence fell for a minute or two. He was occupying himself with putting crème cheese on tiny crackers, and she was drawing patterns on the bedspread, contemplating what it was about him that had her sharing her deepest and darkest secrets without thinking twice about it.

"For the record," Chuck began, brushing his hands clean and sitting up straighter. The look in his eyes letting her know he was dead serious. "Yes, your friend Serena might be gorgeous -" She opened her mouth to cut him off but he quickly raised a hand to stop her. "-No offense, I know she's your friend, but she's got nothing on you. She's Miss America-looking. You're a classic beauty, like a fifties movie star."

She recognized his nickname for her in his comparison. A part of her thought he might be playing the part, doing his job, but he looked so sincere she couldn't help but feel flattered. His opinion mattered, she realized. It didn't matter that she had known him for two days; his opinion somehow trumped her mother's already. It was both unnerving and thrilling at the same time.

She didn't bat her lashes or offer him some coquettish 'thank you', but the look on her face was more than enough. The fact that he could make her feel better, and do it by actually telling the truth, was something that made him feel oddly proud. He had meant every word. She intrigued him, and kept him on his toes, something he found to be an exciting combination. Her being stunningly gorgeous was just a bonus at that point.

"It's weird," Blair sighed, plopping the last grape in her mouth. "I've been telling you things about me non-stop for two days, stuff I haven't told anyone, yet I know next to nothing about you." Chuck cocked an eyebrow at that, and Blair bit her lip, offering him a smile.

"You're saying?" Chuck drawled, purposely dragging out his answer for the benefit of seeing her squirm.

"Tell me something about you." Blair demanded in a joking tone, and occupied herself with securing the plastic cap of her bottle to keep from blushing when he didn't immediately reply.

"I like grilled cheese sandwiches, which happens to be the only thing I can cook. I'm allergic to dogs. I've never been in love." Chuck offered.

"Never?" Blair gawked, the idea of never having been in love about as foreign as giving up one's earthly possessions and moving to Brooklyn. "Not even like, a crush?" She prompted, but Chuck dropped the subject with a shrug of his shoulder.

"It would, complicate, things in my line of work." He mused, then glanced over to the clock on the wall. "We should be getting ready for tonight." Blair followed his gaze, and nodded in agreement. Chuck took it as his cue to leave and avoid further discussions on the subject, got off the bed and walked toward the bathroom. Blair didn't fail to notice how he didn't begin undressing in front of her this time, and to her confusion she found herself more than a little disappointed. With a huff she got off the bed too, moving over to her closet where Dorota had hung her dresses during the day. She could hear the water being turned on while she took the yellow dress from yesterday out of the closet.

As she made her way across the room in search of the right pair of heels, she could hear Chuck humming the same tune again. It seemed like humming in the shower was a habit of his. The notion made her smile, happy to know something more about him than the facts he had shared. She stopped to listen more closely, and this time finally recognized which song it was that he was humming. Once she did, Blair couldn't believe she hadn't identified it earlier. "Moon River!" She exclaimed, coming to a halt in the doorway of the bathroom. Chuck quieted at once and pulled the shower curtain back slightly to give her a questioning look. "You're humming Moon River, from Breakfast at Tiffany's!" Blair clarified, beaming with pride.

Chuck looked at her in silence for a second, then shrugged. "Maybe," he agreed, even though he knew very well that she was right but suddenly a little embarrassed. He never really thought about what he was humming, he barely noticed doing it at all. "I told you, you remind me of a fifties movie star."

"I remind you of _Audrey Hepburn_?" Blair gaped, and looked like the cat that got the cream. She was holding on to the yellow dress she had been considering yesterday, and he couldn't wait to see her in it. Or out of it. The latter felt a lot more appealing if he was to be completely honest.

"She's the petite, brunette one from that movie, isn't she?" Chuck replied, not really the expert on old chick-flicks but considerably better travelled in the topic of hot women. Blair nodded, her curls dancing around her head as she did. "Then, yeah. I guess." He finished, and got back to showering. The idea of her being just a few feet away with him naked, and only a very, very sheer shower curtain between them, affected his self-consciousness a lot more than it had yesterday. It was getting ridiculous, the way he felt when she was around. For the first time since he started, he found himself regretting his choice of livelihood.

XOXO

"I'll walk you inside," Chuck offered as the limo came to a stop outside the night club where Poppy's bachelorette party was being held.

"It's not like I'd get lost," Blair was busy applying a final coat of lipstick before snapping the hand mirror shut and placing both the lipstick and the mirror in her black clutch.

"Humor me," Chuck replied and got out of the limo, not forgetting to offer her a hand as she gathered the material of her yellow, one-shoulder dress in her hand to keep from stepping on it. The fabric delicately draped over her curves and flowing around her legs as they walked over to the door. "It's not every day a guy gets the chance to observe such secretive and sacred female rituals in the early stages, even for the briefest of time. Usually we don't get to see a thing before you're demanding our underwear or selling kisses."

Blair laughed at that, her fingers interlaced with his as the doorman opened the door for them and they stepped into the rented night club. Loud whooping and cheering greeted them once inside, and Chuck didn't fail to notice the discreet eye roll Blair made as she realized all her predictions were most likely to come true before night's end. Poppy and her friends were cheering and laughing at the sight of the 'intruder'. The club had been transformed into an exotic island. There were palm trees and actual sand covering parts of the floor. Flower garlands and fairy lights. All in homage to Poppy and Nate meeting in Thailand and falling in love on some remote, deserted island in the middle of the cerulean sea.

"Chuck, are you joining the dark side?" Poppy danced up to them and sent Chuck an inviting smile, colorful cocktail in hand and lei around her neck. The fringed hem of her turquoise dress danced around her legs as she did. Her question was followed by hoots from the other women that were probably supposed to be encouraging, but had Blair cringing a little and Chuck looking slightly terrified before he managed to crack a smile.

"Ladies," he nodded in amused greeting, "Sadly I must bid you all farewell, there are manly beers to be drunk and backs to be slapped numb in another part of town."

A choir of disappointed sighs filled the air, then the voice of one of Poppy's friends could be heard over the crowd. "Make sure he knows what he's missing, Blair!" Laughter followed, and Blair could feel a pink tint spreading to her cheeks. Chuck however, didn't seem faced by the audience. Smirking he pulled her close, one hand coming up to cup her face and the other one resting at the small of her back. His eyes, glittering in amusement, darkened as she looked up at him. Blair could feel that palpable tension return in a rush, and acted solely on impulse. Her hand slid up his neck and fisted in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him close in one swift move and covering his mouth with hers.

Chuck's response was immediate and hungry. He pulled her flush against his body, coaxing her mouth open with his tongue. Blair responded eagerly, her body humming from the surge of electricity flowing through her system. She could vaguely hear loud cheering in the background.

She had forgot to breathe, and was feeling more than a little light-headed when the kiss ended. Chuck was looking at her, eyes ablaze, and she noticed his breathing wasn't unaffected either. A thrill of excitement came with her last discovery. Blair pulled herself together, an act that took more restraint than she thought she was capable of, and cocked a smug eyebrow at Chuck. "You need to leave now, Bass." She smiled, "Like you said, there are secret rituals to be performed within these walls."

Chuck tilted his head to the side, watching her with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I would," he leered, "but you're still holding my hand." Blair started, and quickly let go of his hand. Ignoring the twitch in her fingers that told her she didn't necessarily want to. Chuck raised his hand in goodbye to Poppy and the others, then turned around and left. He turned his head around briefly before walking out the door, smirk still in place, and Blair found herself staring silently as he disappeared out of sight. Only brought back from her haze when Serena and Poppy threw themselves at her, gushing about her 'sex-on-legs boyfriend' as they dragged her further into the club.

XOXO

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_Thanks for reading!_

_Review?! :)_

_Camilla_


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N** Aah! This took forever, I'm sorry! I had a really hard time writing this chapter, and I still feel very hesitant about posting it._

_Yes, Blair's dress is the one from 2x03, and Chuck's comment about her holding his hand was also a tribute to that episode ;)_

_Some of you still have a hard time seeing Poppy with Nate, which I fully understand. Well, when I think Poppy, I think of early season 2 bubbly-socialite-Poppy, and not criminal-bitch-Poppy. There's a link on my profile, if you want proof on how pretty their babies would be, haha._

_**!!!** There is a part of this chapter, at the end, that is **rated T for a reason**. It might even be close to M (I'm swedish, I have no idea how these american ratings work! haha) Anyway, consider yourself warned!!_

_Also, this is un-beta'd, my apologies in advance for any mistakes!_

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The customary silly games, each one equally horrendous in its own way, were over and Blair had successfully managed to feign enthusiasm without actually participating at all. Now the less meticulously planned part of what was Poppy's bachelorette party was in full swing. The small night club was buzzing with excitement and music was blaring from the speakers. When a scantily clad male waiter walked in the room, carrying two large trays laden with colorful jell-O shots, Blair fastened Serena with an acidic glare. "Remind me why I'm here?" She ground out. The loud cheers of happiness from the other participants were close to drowning out the music as the women flocked around the waiter like pigeons around a left over hot dog bun in Central Park.

"Oh, come on, B!" Serena laughed; the bangles around her wrist jingled as she threw an arm around Blair's shoulder and pulled her to her side. "I know it's a bit over the top. But look at it this way, how often do you and I get a chance to go out and have a good time together nowadays?"

"Because you and your binge drinking ways is what I miss the most about New York." Blair scoffed, but her arm still found its way around her best friend's waist in a quick but affectionate squeeze. "We could always go someplace else?" She finished in a hopeful voice, shuddering at the sight of two of Poppy's college friends close to molesting the poor waiter. Some people really were the perfect example that money can't buy class. "I'm not above begging at this point, S."

"Blair," Serena's voice was a warning and a plea for her to play nice, and Blair rolled her eyes in homage to her seventeen year-old self. "Besides, free stuff always tastes better!" Serena objected, beaming at the waiter who was approaching them with a now less than full tray. Blair took one look at the cargo pants that hung low on his hips, the tanned skin, bulging muscles, and his gleaming (whitened) teeth, and scowled.

Serena on the other hand shot the man another dazzling smile, and happily grabbed four cups of jell-O shots from the black tray in his hands. "Oh, come on!" Serena laughed, noticing the wrinkle of her nose and the frown on her face. "Let's get inappropriately drunk and dance 'til we can't feel our feet!"

She put two of the plastic cups down on the bar, and turned towards Blair, still holding a cup in each hand. "I'll even let you choose which one you want," Serena continued, "What's it going to be, Blair? Drunk and having a great time with your very best friend in the whole, wide world? Or stone sober, bored out of your mind and with permanent wrinkles from scowling all night long?"

Blair realized then that alcohol might just be the trick to survive the night. Lots of alcohol. With a last look of complete and utter distaste in direction of the crowd, now doing a stumbling interpretation of the Macarena, she reached out and took the red shot from Serena's hand, ignoring the blonde's squeal of delight.

"To BFFs!" Serena exclaimed, and they knocked the cups together before emptying them in one go. The red goo didn't actually taste half-bad, once you got over the plebeian aspect of it all, Blair realized. And as she looked over to the woman she had considered her sister since the age of five, Serena already reaching for the next round of shots, she thought that the evening might not turn into a total disaster after all.

Two hours later Blair was having a great time. Splendid. Awesome, even. Bachelorette parties weren't that bad when it all came down to it. She felt on top of the world, her feet ached and her dress was billowing around her legs as she moved to the music. Serena was next to her, holding her hand, laughing and swirling like a pinwheel in the wind.

"I was just thinking-" Blair began, laughing as Serena pulled her back with a twist of her wrist, and lost her train of thought rapidly as she stumbled and crashed into her best friend. The two of them came close to ending up in a pile on the sand covered dance floor, but were miraculously saved by bumping into one of the male waiters. Tanned arms quickly reached out to catch them. "-that we need more drinks!" Blair finished triumphantly, thinking it was the greatest idea anyone had ever come up with. And judging from the ecstatic nod from Serena, her friend agreed with her.

"Tequila!"

XOXO

"Serena! Put those Amazonian qualities of yours to use!" Blair huffed, letting go of their more than a little inebriated and giggling protégé in order to pick her clutch off the floor. The small, black bag at the moment completely overstuffed. Blair had forced the limo driver to make a pit stop, and was not under any circumstances about to lose her bag. That would surely change the course of the evening, as well as dampen her spirits. She retrieved the clutch from the floor, and secured it under her arm.

"I'm trying!" Serena laughed and secured her hold around Poppy's waist. Poppy broke out laughing too, and suddenly launched herself at Serena and embraced the blonde in a hug. The swift movement was all it took for the slightly less intoxicated, but still far from sober, Serena to topple over and the two of them to end up in a heap on the floor. Golden locks, designer bags and turquoise dress in a jumble against the red, patterned carpet of the hotel's corridor. Their hysterical laughter echoing in the quiet space.

It had somehow fallen on herself and Serena to make sure the blushing bride got back to her rented suite at the Palace in one piece. The bridal party had rented out half a floor at the luxurious hotel and they were at the moment making their way down the hallway with their final destination being Poppy's suite. "Hush!" Blair admonished whisperingly, but couldn't quite keep the smile out of her voice. The girls on the ground slowly untangled themselves and Blair offered Poppy a hand.

Still shaking from laughter Poppy accepted the hand Blair held out for her with drunken precision. Blair made a move as if to pull Poppy to her feet, only to find herself too much of a light-weight and ending up on top of the two, eliciting a huff from Serena and another bubbling laugh from Poppy. They found themselves laughing and hushing each other in chorus, before settling enough to slowly get back on their feet. After having made sure her clutch was still where it belonged (not on the floor), Blair wrapped an arm around Poppy's waist, Serena doing the same from the other side of the brunette.

"I can walk," Poppy laughed, stumbling a little in her ridiculously high heels, "I'm walking down the aisle tomorrow, and I'm very adept in the art of walking, thank you very much."

"We're just making sure you don't 'accidentally' end up in Nate's room," Serena winked as the three of them made their way down the hallway. "Don't want you to mess up the whole 'not seeing each other before the ceremony' thing."

"But I want to rip his clothes off!" Poppy objected, pouting a little with a mischievous glint in her brown eyes. Blair and Serena both let out an 'ew' at the thought of Poppy engaged in some kind of unclothed business with their childhood friend, and then broke out in another fit of giggles. Blair surprised herself with her own light-hearted reaction. She didn't want to marry Nate, and sex with Nate had never been particularly…mind-blowing either. Far from the weak-in-the-knees, blood boiling _kiss_ she had experienced earlier that evening. A very, promising, kiss she mused when Serena's voice brought her out of her thoughts.

"Sorry Poppy, but the clothes-ripping will have to wait until tomorrow." Serena chuckled, sliding the key card through the lock on Poppy's door. "You and Nate agreed, remember."

"Nate…I'm so lucky to have him…" Poppy sighed dreamingly, and then returned her focus to Serena and Blair, "and you guys! You are so awesome! Tonight was so awesome!" She beamed, throwing her arms around Serena. The blonde saving them from ending up on the ground by quickly grabbing a hold of the doorframe. "And you too Blair!" Poppy continued, untangling herself from Serena and embracing Blair in a bone-cracking hug. "You're so awesome! It's so great of you to forgive Nate and be cool with all of this!"

Poppy's choice of words puzzled Blair. It had never been so much about being angry with Nate than mourning the possibilities of a life as Mrs. Nathaniel Archibald. "Why wouldn't I forgive him?" Blair asked, hugging Poppy back. "He didn't do anything wrong-"

"But," Poppy pulled back and frowned in bewilderment, still holding on to Blair's shoulder with one hand.

"Poppy Lifton - soon to be Archibald - time to get to bed and under no circumstances try and molest your fiancé." Serena interrupted, and cut Poppy off mid-sentence. Poppy still looked a little confused, like she had something on her mind, but let it go with a happy sigh at the mentioning of her soon-to-be new surname. Her eyes glazing over with undiluted happiness. Then her focus returned and she fastened Blair with a stern look, her hand tightening its grip of Blair's shoulder and her index finger pointed on Blair's nose. "Blair Waldorf, since I'm unable to do any clothes ripping tonight, I trust _you_ to follow through with the plan."

"Yes!" Serena exclaimed, her whole face lighting up like a bonfire at the idea. "Oh Blair, you lucky one! You'll do some ripping in Poppy's place!"

"Sex-on-legs-Chuck's-clothes-ripping." Poppy sing-songed and leaned down unsteadily to take off her strappy stilettos, Serena quickly reached out to steady her with a death-grip around her waist.

"You're exaggerating," Blair tried to object, subconsciously tightening the hold on her clutch.

"No," Both Serena and Poppy exclaimed in chorus and looked over to Blair as if she had just claimed to consider giving up Prada.

"Seriously, B." Serena continued, tossing a mass of blonde hair over her shoulder once Poppy was standing barefoot and upright beside her. "We're really not! You should buy God a drink or something!"

"Tequila!" Poppy interjected. Emphasizing her words with waving motions of her strappy sandals as she spoke. "You need to buy God a shot of tequila to say 'thank you Mr. God for getting me the sex-on-legs-stud that is my boyfriend."

XOXO

Blair and Serena stepped out from the Palace, arms linked together and their heels clicking against the pavement as they made their way across the small courtyard. Once out on the sidewalk, the first _thing_ that they spotted had Serena gripping Blair's arm like a vice, and Blair's stomach doing a much undignified flip. Chuck was only a few feet away from them, smoking a cigarette. He looked deep in thought, moving edgily back and forth.

"Chuck!" Serena beamed, and Chuck's head snapped towards the sound. His eyes landed on Blair, and the slight frown on his forehead deepened momentarily before vanishing completely. A smirk made its way on to his face at the sight of the two of them, and he sent the cigarette to the ground with a flick of his fingers.

Serena waved enthusiastically, and he returned the gesture, if not in a less overly fervent manner. "Remember B," Serena whispered conspiratorially, hugging her tight."God, tequila, clothes-ripping. But not necessarily in that order." With those words and a wink, the blonde took off down the sidewalk, towards a waiting cab.

Chuck watched the two obviously less than sober friends hug goodbye, willing the uneasiness to go away. He didn't want to think about shit now, not with her standing there in her yellow dress and looking like a vision from a Hollywood movie. She had her back to him, following her friend with her eyes until the blonde was safely inside the cab. When she turned around and walked in his direction, he had to swallow hard to try and rid himself of the sudden tightness in his chest. What was it with this woman and her ability to render him breathless?

"Chuck, what ar-" Blair began, but then stumbled on a bump in the sidewalk. Chuck moved quickly and caught her before she ended up on the ground. "-you doing here?" Blair finished laughingly, tilting her head up to look at him.

"I volunteered to get your drunk-off-his-ass ex back to his room," Chuck explained and his heart skipped a beat as she steadied herself and her arms found their way around his neck. Oh, crap. Her eyes were a little glassy, but compared to that first time they met in San Francisco she looked happy and carefree. He wasn't going to be the one to change that. "How are you?" He added, smirking, as his arms found their way around her waist.

"I'm great!" Blair smiled, stepping closer to him. Then her smile disappeared and her eyes darkened visibly as her hand brushed over his cheek. "But I could be better," she added, her gaze flickering to his mouth, and bit her lip in a way that once again had him swallowing in a vain attempt to get his breath back.

"Is that your limo?" He quickly changed the subject, and pointed in direction of the limo parked just a few yards from them. When did he grow a conscience? She was hot as hell and she clearly wanted him. To say that he wanted her would be an understatement. What the fuck was wrong with him?

"It is," Blair mused, the one of her hands that had been resting on his cheek moved down to grip at the lapel of his grey vest. When her lips grazed the skin above the pulse point of his neck, Chuck was done and over with having a spot-free conscience.

XOXO

Silence fell as they settled on the shorter seat inside the dimly lit limo. The tension had sunk to a more bearable level, and for a second Chuck almost thought that she had fallen asleep next to him on the seat. But as he turned his head to look at her, he found that she was staring at him. Air supply sufficiently cut off; check.

"I guess I should say thanks for the lift home," he choked out. Blair didn't reply, and the tension grew, the air between them simmering with something so blatantly obvious it felt touchable.

Blair slowly scooted closer to him, knowing more than well what her intentions were. She felt like she could blame the number of shots flowing in her bloodstream, but she wouldn't. Truth was she hadn't been able to stop thinking about him all night, not since _that_ kiss. Or maybe even before that.

She could tell the exact moment when he caught on to what she was thinking, and the slight tilt of his head was all the invitation she needed. Their lips met and Blair sighed blissfully into the kiss. She still couldn't believe something so simple, a kiss for God's sake, could feel _that_ good.

His hands were balled into fists to keep from reaching out and put his hands on her. That somewhat responsible and really boring part of him knew he should ask her if she was _sure_ about this, that he should regain control of his vocal chords and say something before anything more happened - do his _job_. But the other part, the much bigger part, didn't want to. Not at all. That part wanted her, and knew that this had nothing to do with business. Not anymore.

Blair's body was humming in anticipation. She wanted him. And she wanted _him _to want _her_ too, didn't want to think about the fact that this was work for him. _Business_. She almost shuddered at the word. She didn't want to think about that, not now (not ever, perhaps). So she slid her hand up his neck and fisted it in the hair at the nape of his neck, remembering the reaction it had provoked earlier. Her insides did another joyous flip as the trick worked and Chuck let out a low growl, deepening the kiss.

Without giving it a second thought, Blair moved so that she was straddled over him. She let out a disappointed whine when his mouth left hers, but it was cut short as he placed a trail of kisses down the column of her throat and across her collar bone. In an attempt to get even closer to him, she ground her hips against him, a wave of heat rushing through her that only increased as the motion had him letting out a strangled groan.

_More_. The word echoed in his clouded brain. His hands found their way into her hair, tugging lightly until she pulled back so that he could look her in the eyes. Her eyes dark with undiluted lust. She looked like a goddess. "See something you like?" She breathed, and repeated _that_ motion of her hips, sending flames down his spine to his crotch. The next tug of her hair was not as careful as before, and in one swift move he covered her mouth with his. She came willingly, her hands leaving his hair to work at the buttons of his vest and striped shirt.

"Too much clothing," Chuck murmured, and Blair could feel her bones melting to lava as his hands found their way up her thighs, moving over heated flesh. Before she knew it he had found the zipper of her dress and got her out of it. The cooler air inside the limo should have had goose bumps appear on her skin, but she barely noticed the change in temperature as his hands slid over the planes of her back, sliding underneath the lace of her strapless, black bra. Each touch had her wanting more. Craving more. Not enough.

"You don't say," Blair managed to choke out in between staggered breaths; the last of her words disappeared in a moan as he unclasped her bra in one well-practiced move and cupped her breasts.

The tiny facet of her brain that was still functioning on a coherent level told her that she should probably feel a little scandalized by the fact that she was almost naked, straddling him wearing nothing but her thong and headband, whilst he was still fully dressed. But that last shred of sanity was quickly gone as Chuck continued his hands ministrations with his mouth. Then the only close to lucid idea left in her mind was the aching, burning need to feel him, all of him, skin against skin.

Blair's fingers trembled as she worked on the buttons of his shirt, tugging and yanking wildly at the tiny pieces of plastic and almost tearing the fabric at one point. With a low, husky chuckle Chuck let go of her for a second to help her out, and quickly shrugged out of his shirt. His hands were everywhere, stroking and teasing, except for where Blair wanted them the most. Needed them the most.

"Patience, kitten." When she noticed how Chuck was chuckling quietly at her obvious impatience, she accepted the challenge with a full body grind that would put any burlesque dancer to shame. She had moves, she had told him and apparently now she had to show him in order to get her way. His quiet laugh died in his throat, replaced by something that matched her as far as impatience went, and Blair almost let out a surprised yelp as he suddenly moved so that she was on her back on the leather seat of the limo, and covered her form with his.

Chuck let his hand wander down, from her chest to her knee, reveling in the feel of her smooth, silky skin underneath the palm of his hand. They were back to kissing then, passionate and hungry. He was throbbing with need and she was not making it easy for him to hang on to any kind of self-control, as she writhed underneath him. The sound she made as his fingers trailed the edge of her lacy underwear was enough to send the last remaining drops of blood in his brain south. Ever the masochist he felt her shudder as his fingers rubbed against her core in slow, deliberate movements.

The sounds she made were intoxicating. With patience he never thought himself capable of he slid her thong down her legs, then found himself momentarily spellbound by the sheer beauty of her lying naked in front of him. While on his knees on the seat, he kicked off his own shoes before taking off hers too. When her eyes flickered open, her clouded gaze fastened on him and her plump bottom lip caught between her teeth, he could feel that now familiar surge of electricity increase further. Transfixed by the promises her eyes held; he barely registered when she sat up and only reacted once she put her hand against the obvious bulge in his pants.

"Patience is overrated." Blair objected breathily, as Chuck groaned and shuddered from her touch, bucking against her hand. Done with being even remotely patient, she reached out for his belt buckle, and unzipped his pants with surprisingly steady hands. Another groan rumbled at the back of his throat as her hand closed around his length, and for a second he was frozen above her. His eyes squeezed shut and his jaw set in a firm line. Slowly stroking up and down, Blair leaned in to kiss him. Her move brought Chuck out of his haze, and in one swift move he fell back on the seat, pulling Blair with him, and caught her mouth with his. With joint effort they discarded him of his pants and boxers, their lips never losing contact.

She had had sex before, hadn't been a virgin since her seventeenth birthday (Nate, of course. It had been fine, really. Not earth shattering but who experiences something like that their first time?) So it wasn't that she was some inexperienced, nervous virgin. But somehow it felt just like an earth shattering, first time. His hands were everywhere, didn't leave a single inch of skin untouched. She lost track of time, got lost in the way her body molded to fit his and the feel of his skin against hers.

He felt on fire. Set ablaze and happy to burn. She was perfect. He could feel something crack and shatter deep inside of him. The feeling of something new and different in the pit of his stomach cut through the red haze in his head. It felt a little unnerving and he almost shook his head to rid himself of the feeling somehow, but then reached out to claim her lips with his instead. She was close, he could tell, and so was he. The muscles in his stomach tightening more and more with each passing moment.

"So beautiful," Chuck murmured against her neck, his lips grazing the pulse point on her neck and his hand stroking down her back. She felt as if she was hanging off the edge of a cliff, darkness surrounding her on all sides with his touch and voice her only guide. To what she didn't know. But when his hand found its way down between their bodies, and finally touched her where she needed it the most, she could feel herself slip. The last thing she caught before she came undone was his whispered; "Won't you come for me?" And then the darkness erupted in blinding colors and heat.

XOXO

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_Thanks for reading! :)_

_And thanks to the lovelies, Noirreigne and Madeleinex for their encouragement. You guys are the best! Pop! ;)_

_Please review and let me know what you think!_

_Camilla_


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N** I am so sorry this took so freaking long guys!!! :( I feel bad, and to make it up to you, I made it extra long! ;)_

_Thanks for the feedback on the last chapter, you have me squealing and blushing like a crazy person! And thanks to those of you who has put this story on alert/favourite-ed! :)_

_Uhm...there's not really that much clothes to play guess-the-epi with in this chapter...haha. I guess one of those; **'parts of this chapter is rated M, consider yourself warned!'** are in order ;)_

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For the second time in two days, Blair woke up only to find herself almost on top of Chuck, wrapped around him like vines to a brick wall. And just like the day before she nuzzled closer and reveled in the warmth his proximity provided. Also in a similar matter, it took approximately ten seconds before she realized what she was doing, and what position she was in. This time around however, the realization didn't cause her to jump and cry out a nearly incoherent sequence of questions. Instead she immediately froze in a panicked attempt not to wake him up.

Images of the night before came rushing back. The more vivid memories brought a slight flush to her cheeks, like how she had more or less jumped Chuck in the limo, rubbing against him like a cat in heat. That, and memories of urgent kisses, roaming hands and _him_. He had been surprisingly…sweet? Selfless? Underneath that cocky charm that got her blood boiling. You're paying him to do that, whispered the self-critical voice at the back of her head, that's his job. Then something else crossed her mind that sent a strange rush of adrenaline through her system. She hadn't paid him. Why hadn't he said something? Was he going to this morning? Could it be that he had actually looked at it as less of a business deal, and more like…something else? No, she was quick to tell herself, get over yourself Blair. He doesn't care, he was doing his _job_. But pulling her close to his chest once they had made it into her bed and putting his arm around her wasn't necessarily part of his job description, was it?

Her mind was racing, and the jumble of thoughts was too much to handle with her eyes closed. Almost as if the questions and thoughts were too many and too blurry to fit inside her head. But as Blair opened her eyes she immediately realized her mistake. Her very huge and incredibly stupid mistake. Because opening your eyes when you're close to lying on top of someone isn't exactly the key ingredient when it comes to _not_ seeing that person first thing.

Chuck was still asleep and not looking her way (thank you, deities of the world. Or is it Mr. God? In that case; Tequila? Champagne?), laying flat on his back with one arm over his head. He looked just as great as ever with sleep relaxing his features, but Blair wouldn't go as far as to say he looked innocent. There was nothing innocent or very angelic about the sharp angles of his face or the curve of his lip, and she could only guess that that must be what a devil tamed looked like. Her gaze trailed over his features, and her fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and touch him. So with her eyes fastened on his face and almost holding her own breath just to be able to tell in case his quickened, she allowed her hand to reach out and carefully brush a strand of dark hair off his forehead. When Chuck reacted to her light touch with a slight furrow of his brow, her heart nearly stopped in her chest. He didn't wake up however, and her fingers kept moving on their own will, trailing down his nose and over his Cupid's bow. When she realized what she was doing, Blair frowned and quickly pulled her hand away. What the hell was she doing? Molesting the man in his sleep? When Chuck stirred and rolled over to his side with a deep sigh, she quickly got out of the bed in one not too subtle move, and took shelter inside the bathroom.

The scent of cherry and vanilla invaded his dreams and woke Chuck up. He could vaguely register the light brush of fingers against his skin, his body practically smiling in delight and moving instinctively toward the touch. Only when the mattress jiggled did he wake up completely and realize where he was. Opening his eyes he caught a quick glimpse of Blair in her champagne colored slip, disappearing out of sight inside the bathroom. The next thing he noticed was the uneasy, restless feeling creeping under his skin. Like there was a tiny but powerful maelstrom trapped inside his gut, wrecking havoc on his insides. Frowning he tried to rationalize the feeling, but found that he couldn't. He hadn't even been drunk last night. Buzzed perhaps, but not drunk. Last night when they… The memories of their, whatever, in the limo momentarily erased the frown on his forehead. He'd believed from the first time they'd touched that she was a sex kitten in the making and man, had he been right. Chuck had definitely slept with his fair share of women (he'd kind of lost count at sixteen), both 'professionally' and in his spare time, but last night had been something else. And for the first time in a (fucking) long time, he hadn't been 'working'.

The last thought had the frown returning full force. He should have talked to her, explained...whatever it was that he had been thinking. But _fuck_, he had barely been able to breathe with her lips on his, on his skin, let alone speak in coherent sentences. He should have acted professional. Yeah, that's what he should have explained, that he hadn't been 'working' (Shit, she's even managed to turn his _thoughts_ into a rambling mess)

Groaning in confusion Chuck rubbed his face with his hand, finished just as Blair walked back into the room. He apparently startled her, because she jumped a little as they made eye contact and instinctively crossed her arms over her chest.

"You're awake." The flutter in the pit of her stomach was instant and the sensation hit her like a punch in the face. Oh, crap. She recognized that feeling. (Really, Mr. God? They'd been getting on so well) Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she stared at him in awkward silence until she had recovered enough to get moving. "I'll get us some coffee." She managed to choke out, and practically ran out the room.

Chuck stared after her retreating form. There it was again, that uneasy feeling in his gut. Had he not believed it before, he was now wholly convinced he wasn't a beer man, scotch never came with that weird feeling beer apparently did. Stupid, plebeian excuse of a beverage. He threw back the covers and got out of bed. It was only moments later that Blair returned, holding two giant mugs of steaming coffee. "Here," she said, and handed him one of the two.

"Thanks." Chuck took the mug she offered and had a sip (maybe coffee would do the trick?) "About last-"

"I need a shower." Blair interjected, eager for him not to say anything that could burst her bubble of ignorant bliss, and for the second time that morning skipped inside the bathroom without looking back. She just wanted a few more minutes of pretending this _thing_ between them, whatever it was, was something real. And Chuck talking about prices and fees would definitely burst that bubble like a safety pin to a balloon.

Chuck let out a frustrated breath as she disappeared out of sight, but at the same time felt oddly relieved. He hadn't exactly planned longer than to 'about last night', and was in all honesty happy she'd interrupted him. What had he really thought would come from a conversation like that one? Or rather, why did he feel compelled to have it in the first place? Damn it, that woman was playing with his mind. That enticing, sexy-as-hell woman… Lost in a particularly vivid memory of Blair purring in his ear, her fingernails scratching down his shoulders, he put the coffee mug down on her vanity without looking. The thud that echoed in the room when her clutch hit the floor brought him out of his trip down Memory Lane, and he bent down to pick it up. It was heavy, so crammed with stuff that it would barely close and the discovery made him grin. Chuck believed that he understood women, he really did. They liked to pretend that they were difficult but they were really not. But the one thing he would never understand was their relationship to their purse. They behaved as if their bag was their ultimate source of power. The image of Blair dressed like Wonder Woman crossed his mind, but was quickly interrupted when he spotted the stack of crisp dollar bills inside her clutch.

Money, and lots of it too. Money that had most likely been meant for him. The maelstrom picked up pace, and it felt almost as if someone had poured a bucket full of nails into its swirling depts. The sharp pins pricking and poking at his insides.

Blair let the water cascade down her back, and did her best not to dwell on the discussion that was to come, that Chuck had already begun before her hasty exit. When the shower curtain was yanked away forcefully, she gasped in surprise and covered herself with her hands in a vain attempt to keep him from seeing what he had already seen, touched...licked, last night . Chuck stood there, still only in his pajama pants, and looked her with a grim expression on his face. "What's this?" He growled, and that's when she noticed the clutch in his hand, fifteen hundred dollars worth of crisp dollar bills clearly visible. Her stomach dropped.

"Nothing." She replied, a slight, defiant raise of her chin even though she most likely resembled a drenched cat where she stood. Chuck scoffed at her unconvincing reply. There was a tension in his shoulder that she hadn't seen before, and his jaw was set in a firm line that only increased the angles in his features. Had he been someone else, she might have said that he looked a little offended, hurt.

"I told you," Chuck continued, his voice a low, angry snarl. "If I was going to charge you, we would have settled that beforehand." Fuck, she looked amazing even now. Her hair slicked back from her face and hanging over her shoulders like molten chocolate and the rest of her all…wet. Before this day, he had never once felt the need to sleep with the same woman twice, no matter how alluring she might have been. Once he slept with someone she was forever out of his system and sent on her way. Until now, apparently.

"I…-" Blair trailed off, unsure of what to say. He did look hurt, she realized, and for some reason the notion made her feel bad. Why on earth would he be upset that she had intended on paying him? The questions from earlier began dancing around inside her head once again, and she could feel a headache begin to throb, one of her hands coming up to rub the bridge of her nose. She refused to feel guilty, and an acid reply was burning on the tip of her tongue, but before she could voice her displeasure he beat her to it.

"And by the way, movie star -" There was still that slight ting of venom to his voice that made her cringe inwardly, and the nickname didn't sound like a term of endearment at all, more like a curse. "You're three hundred short."

"What?" Blair screeched, and momentarily forgot all about headaches and feeling guilty. "There's fifteen hundred dollars in there!" Chuck only reply was the same angry stare. "That's almost half a Birkin bag!"

"But a fucking bag wouldn't have you moaning and -" Chuck began tauntingly in a way she had never before heard him speak and that sent chills down her spine. But ignoring the sudden thickness in her throat, Blair cut him off with a glare before he could finish. They both stood there, glowering at each other whilst the water continued to splash violently against the floor of the bathtub. When Blair shivered a little, cold from her not-so-very-dressed state, Chuck diverted his gaze and turned to leave.

What happened next, Blair would never be able to explain away. She reached out and grabbed a hold of his wrist. Chuck stopped in his steps, and turned to look at her with a slight rise of his brow. The annoyance still etched on his face now joined by confusion. Blair didn't say anything; there were no words for what she wanted. She only tugged at his wrist again, with more force this time. Seconds passed, and Blair found herself holding her breath as her heart thumped like beating was going out of style inside her chest. The third time she pulled at his wrist (third time's the charm, or the final nail in the coffin of her pride), Chuck complied and moved toward her. As he reached the edge of the bathtub, he paused for a second, seemingly searching her eyes for something. Then he stepped over the edge, and joined her. The navy silk of his pajama pants was immediately drenched when the spray of water hit him, and clung to his legs like a second skin.

There it was again, Chuck thought as he stepped closer to her naked, dripping form, that out-of-this-world, all-consuming tension simmering between the two of them. He recognized the silent apology in her actions as well as the obvious invitation, and the nails seemed to be washed out of the maelstrom in his gut, replaced by joyous swirls and waves. He already ached for her, and guessed that the want in her eyes was mirrored in his own. She kept her grip around his wrist, so he used his other hand to reach out and cup her chin. Her lips were slightly parted, and he smirked as he traced the plump bottom lip with his thumb, watching her eyes flutter close in response.

Blair's heart still beat furiously in her chest. The sound of its wild thumping pounding in her ears so loudly she could barely focus on anything else. Then her brain came close to shutting down as his thumb brushed against her lip. The immediate response from her body should probably leave her appalled, but she found that it didn't. Instead she welcomed the instantaneous, hungry response to his touch and ached to reach out and touch him, taste him. But she refused to be the initiator this time (more than she already was at least) She needed him to make the first move because she was still far from rid of the voice at the back of her head that kept telling her he was doing his job. She needed proof it wasn't about business. That it was _real_. If not, if he didn't want her, then she would live to see another day without the thrill of his hands on her skin. Because there was a limit to how low she was willing to stoop, and throwing herself after a man who didn't really want her was definitely on the wrong side of that line.

When Chuck finally moved, throwing all doubts and second thoughts aside, the first touch of skin against skin was all the invitation she needed. His arms came around her back and pulled her flush against him as their lips crashed together. His erection pressed against her stomach, and Blair sighed in response to the need flooding her system, her hands fisting in his wet hair. Too busy with devouring his mouth to realize how he seemed to really, really want her too. The taste of him, and the sensation of his tongue invading her mouth, was intoxicating.

Sure that she wouldn't step away from him if he loosened his grip, Chuck let his hands wander over her slick, wet skin. One hand sliding over her back, and the other travelling lower to skim over her sex before settling at her waist. The sound escaping her lips went straight to his ego, and he wanted more. Her lips left his in favor for his collarbone; sharp nips quickly soothed by soothing licks. Her mouth soon continued its exploration of his skin, travelling up along the column of his throat and brushing against his jaw line. She bit down on his earlobe, and he barely caught her pleased laugh as he groaned at the sensation, the fiery tingles spreading like wildfire down to his crotch. She reached down to rid him of his drenched pants, and Chuck shuddered as she wrapped her small hand around him, and quickly reached out to steady himself against the wall with one hand. With the strength of a champion, Chuck ground his teeth and somehow pulled himself together before it all came to a too early ending. Interrupting her ministrations by stepping closer and pushing her up against the wall. Blair whimpered as her back hit the cold wall, but let out a throaty laugh as Chuck slipped a little and nearly lost his grip of her. He quickly steadied himself, his eyes finding hers to make sure she was okay, and was met by glassy eyes and kiss swollen lips.

Still laughing, Blair leaned in to kiss him. He responded hungrily and her breath hitched in her throat as his hands found their way to her breasts and thumbs flicked over hardened nipples. His fingertips were like fire and ice all at the same time. Burning their way over her skin - setting her aflame - and sending chills down her spine that left goose bumps in their wake. Blair moaned into his mouth as his skillful fingers found her core and pushed inside of her. Then she lost contact with the world outside their bubble, became deaf and blind to everything but the maddeningly slow pace his fingers set, pumping in and out of her. When his thumb found her most sensitive spot, it was all it took for her world to erupt in blinding heat, and she came with his name a ragged cry from her lips. Stars were dancing around behind her closed eyelids, and Blair couldn't speak, couldn't think. Could do nothing but _feel_. When his hand left her center, the whimper of protest that escaped her lips shocked her even in her disoriented state. Still eager not to lose contact with his skin, and not able to get too close to him, Blair lifted her leg up and wrapped it around his waist. They both groaned at the sensation her movement created, and his forehead came down to rest on in the crock of her neck.

He was forgetting something, that much he knew, and tried his best to muster enough brain capacity to remember what it was. As she writhed against him, he nearly lost control but then remembered. "Wait," he choked out, his fingers digging into her hips to still her movement. Blair barely registered what he was saying, acting purely on carnal instinct, her lips brushing against his temple and her hips grinding against him. "Condom." He managed to choke out, his voice a hoarse almost unrecognizable whisper against her heated skin.

The word pierced through the clouds in her mind like a flower through the asphalt, allowing her to think straight, but her body still moved on its own accord. "Where?" she breathed, her hips still grinding against him, and the last part of her question disappeared in a moan.

"Wallet." Chuck panted, trying to keep some distance between them. Then, with superhuman willpower, he managed to pull away from her and get out of the bathtub. When he returned with prize in hand he found her in the exact same position as when he left seconds earlier. Her chest heaving and eyes glazed over with undiluted lust. He covered himself and then stepped into her waiting arms, his mouth finding hers instantaneously. Blair's legs locked around him as he hoisted her up and positioned himself at her entrance. He could feel the heat exuding from her center. "Look at me," he demanded, ignoring her writhing protests against the delay until she complied. Their eyes met, brown locking with brown, and then he slowly lowered her down.

Chuck's eyes rolled back in his head at the sensation of her slick heat surrounding him, and he had to pause to catch his breath and regain control of his senses (since when did he, _Chuck Bass_, need a breather?) When he looked up again he found that she was still looking at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. "So fucking beautiful," he growled and finally began moving, reveling in her sounds of pleasure and the way her hips swayed to meet him, thrust by thrust. What began in a slow, patient pace was soon exchanged into something else, favoring the need for more, closer, not enough. When he came, when the whirlpool finally engulfed him, his cry was swallowed in a bruising kiss. Chuck vaguely registered something inside of him click and shift into place, and for one second he knew with aching clarity that something had changed, never to be the same again.

They stumbled out of the shower later on, haphazardly toweled each other dry and left the towels in a heap on the floor before fall back into the still untidy bed. Chuck immediately pulled Blair to his chest, his arm thrown over her form and holding her close, and within seconds they both drifted off to sleep.

XOXO

Chuck woke up and, as immediate as subconsciously, wrapped his arms tighter around Blair still lying right next to him. With a yawn he moved over to his side to look at her. She was awake. The fluttering in his gut was instant and only amplified when she offered him a smile.

"Hi." Blair whispered, mesmerized by the look in his eyes. She was unstoppably and uncharacteristically falling for him, there was no denying it now. When the annoying tangle of questions and doubts began to swirl around her head like autumn leaves in the wind, she resolutely shoved them inside the box at the back of her mind labeled 'don't even go there'. This was not the time to dwell on the unavoidable, tragic ending of the story about the princess who rented a prince for the weekend. "You hungry?"

"Don't tell me I'm wearing you out?" Chuck smirked, his fingers dancing down her upper arm. He chuckled against the top of her head when she swatted his arm indignantly.

"That was something extra though," Blair agreed moments later, but immediately regretted her words when she spotted the smug look on his face

"I have the scars on my back to prove it." Chuck drawled, his fingers now drawing lazy circles on her lower back underneath the covers. "And yes."

"Huh?" Blair blinked up at him, met by an unmistakable touch of mirth in his eyes. Had she asked him something? It was getting more and more difficult to focus when his hand travelled lower with each circle he traced on her skin.

"Hungry." Chuck murmured, leaning down to capture her lips with his. They kissed, softly and unhurriedly . Both halfway to forgetting all about their hunger in favor for a different kind of appetite, when Blair's stomach rumbled. She pulled back, embarrassed, but Chuck only grinned. "Come on, movie star, I can't have you passing out on me due to malnutrition."

"Oh, I almost forgot." Blair frowned. "Today is Dorota's day off."

"I think we'll manage." Chuck grinned, and got out of bed.

They didn't bother much with their appearances, Blair wrapped her robe around her and Chuck opted for a pair of slacks and a shirt, his pajama pants still in a soaked heap on the floor of the bathtub. Before they left her room, Blair hesitated, evaluating the possible consequences of venturing downstairs without being properly dressed or with her hair in damp and un-styled. Then she remembered that her mother was most likely away getting her hair and nails done before the wedding that afternoon, and followed Chuck downstairs.

Once in the kitchen Chuck walked right up to the huge, stainless steel refrigerator to explore its content. Blair could only watch in fascinated silence as he began taking out all kind of ingredients on the kitchen counter, and raised an eyebrow questioningly at him as he turned around - finished with his raid of the fridge. "What?"

"You actually cook?" Blair smirked, and laughed at the indignant look on his face at her incredulous tone.

"You're saying that _you don't_?" Chuck drawled, searching through the cupboards. Satisfied only when he came across a loaf of bread.

"That's what the Dorota's of the world are for." Blair replied, leaning against the counter and watching him with a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I make killer Bellini's though." She added, while Chuck began spreading butter on the bread, humming a tune she recognized well.

"I guess that makes you in charge of the drinks." He told her, and grinned at her appalled expression. He felt oddly…elated, and she was so damn cute whenever she got worked up about something.

"It's not even noon yet!" Blair objected. But as Chuck's only response was a nod of his head in direction of the clock on the wall, she was forced to surrender. As a matter of fact it was five minutes to twelve; they had been...occupied for longer than she thought. "Fine," she huffed, but then added with a flick of her hair. "Get ready for the Bellini of your life."

XOXO

"This," Blair sighed in gastronomic bliss, nodding toward the half eaten grilled cheese in her hand, "is the best sandwich, ever."

She was seated on top of the counter top, legs dangling off the edge, with Chuck standing beside her. Pleased with her approval, Chuck took another sip of his Bellini. "What can I say," he mused, watching the way her tongue came out to lick some crumbs off her lip, and feeling the muscles in his stomach tightening in response. "I'm a man of many talents."

Blair laughed out loud at that, a little tipsy from the second 'one-minute-past-noon-still-counts-Bellini' she had had. She downed the last bite of her sandwich with a sip of her drink, and then stretched lazily. Content and at ease. Then she caught on to the dark glint in his eyes.

"Still hungry?" She winked, leaning back to rest her weight on one hand, watching him closely as her robe fell off her shoulder and revealed a naked shoulder. Shivering in anticipation from the way he looked at her. Feeling more wanted than she ever had with anyone. Chuck set his glass aside, not breaking eye contact, and she could feel his breath fanning her neck.

"Is the kitchen open?" He husked, his hand sliding up her leg from her knee to the inside of her thigh. Her legs spread on their own accord, and Chuck moved so that he was standing between them.

"Maybe," Blair smiled and sat up straight. "If the price is right."

He chuckled at that, and then they were kissing again. He took his time, coaxing her mouth open with his tongue, surprised at how satisfied he felt just from kissing her. He would be perfectly fine could he just get to kiss her like this forever.

It could have been minutes, hours, even days. They had both lost all track of time, too occupied with the feel of lips against lips, when the door to the kitchen swung open. Blair pulled back in haste, wiping her mouth and silently cursing her own stupidity. If her mother found them like this... Luckily for her, it wasn't her mother standing in the doorway, but Cyrus. The older man only chuckled merrily at their public display. "Never mind me" He winked, and walked over to the fridge. Blair felt a blush spread across her cheeks and carefully slid off the counter top.

"Maybe we should start getting ready?" Chuck murmured in her ear, placing an unexpectedly tender kiss on her cheek before walking out the room. Blair busied herself with their empty glasses, carrying them over to the sink for Dorota to wash, all the while feeling Cyrus' eyes on her. When she turned to leave the room, eager to get out of there and be embarrassed by her own, Cyrus interrupted her with a hand on her arm.

"I can only speak for myself," Cyrus began, looking up at her with a smile playing on his lips, "But I think he has some true potential, that one." With that said, and a final pat of her arm, Cyrus went back to making his coffee and Blair walked out the room. She could do nothing but agree with her stepfather. Chuck definitely had some potential.

XOXO

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_Thanks for reading!_

_Review and let me know how I did?_

_I would love to hear from you 'new' readers too! ;)_

_Camilla_


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N** I'm sorry this took so long. I seem to be saying that a lot, but it's true! I tried to get this up last week before I left town for a few days, but it refused to turn out the way I wanted it to, and I won't update a chapter just to update. Anyway, I'm back and here's the next chapter. Our game of 'guess the outfit' is back on too ;)_

_Thank you so much to all of you who reviewed the last chapter, and that has put this story on alert/fav it's so very flattering. I'm glad you guys like it! :)_

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With a final look in the mirror Chuck was done and left the bathroom. The way his shirt matched the color of the walls not lost on him as he adjusted the cuffs of his pale pink button down. Any boor could pull off a plain, white button down shirt. Pink on the other hand wasn't for anyone.

"Good, you're ready. We have to leave." Blair's voice interrupted his sartorial reflection. She was standing by the door, looking like a thoroughbred horse before a race with impatience radiating from her every pore and 'polished' to shine. The only thing missing would be her scraping her Manolo clad foot against the carpet. Her hair was pulled back in a way that showed off that neck of hers he found so very appealing. Her dress was a delicate, tulip-shaped number in a pink and green floral print. The only thing keeping it from ending up in a pile at her feet was shiny, pink silk ribbons. She looked mouth-watering.

Not saying a word Chuck motioned for her to come over. "We have to go," Blair objected, but complied with a sigh when he didn't move and walked up to him. He held out his hand and she took it without further questions, deciding to play along with whatever it was he was up to if it meant they'd get downstairs faster. Chuck slowly twirled her around like the ballerina in a music box, and Blair could feel her body respond to his heated gaze. Once they were back face to face, Chuck reached out to touch the pink, orchid adorning her hair.

"Is there a point to-" Blair began, but was efficiently, and pleasantly, cut off as Chuck leaned in and captured her lips with his. He kissed her just long enough to leave her slightly breathless when he pulled back.

"Is that ribbon tied together somewhere out if eye's sight?" He smirked, trailing the ribbon across her collar bone with his index finger. "I like my presents with ribbon on top."

Blair scoffed at his smarmy comment, but felt strangely flattered. How could she not when his eyes seemed glued to her and his finger still trailed the neckline of her dress as if she really was a much desired and beautifully wrapped gift? Taking a step back before the situation made her lose her head completely, she glowered at him as the corner of his mouth tugged into a smirk – fully aware of what she was doing and why. Giving him a quick once over she noticed that they were matching. Again. He was in a dark pin-striped suit, and pink button down. He looked great. Not that she felt any particular need to stroke his ego some more in that moment.

"Your shirt reminds me of my bathroom walls." She pointed out smilingly, her hand coming out to straighten the collar of his shirt.

"Are you sure it's my shirt and not my_ presence _that remind you of your bathroom…wall?" Chuck drawled, and raised a smug eyebrow in her direction. She had really offered him that one on a silver platter, hadn't she?

Before he could make another seedy remark, Blair grabbed him by the hand and dragged him out the door and down the stairs where Eleanor and Cyrus were waiting. Dorota was there too, a digital camera in her hands. "You two stand right there Ms. Blair," the maid waved them over to the small table by the elevator. "You make such pretty picture with Mr. Chuck and all the pink."

Eleanor scoffed at the last words from the maid, clearly not pleased with Chuck's choice of colour. Chuck however did not seem faced by either Dorota's words or Eleanor's reaction. But before he could turn the maid's reference to the colour into a barely hidden innuendo, Blair's heel was hovering close to his shin. "Not a word," She sing-songed quietly and then smiled as Dorota captured the two of them on camera.

XOXO

The four of them stood in silence during the elevator ride downstairs. Not until they were almost at the bottom floor was the quiet disrupted by Eleanor. Blair had felt her mother's scrutinizing eyes on her since they sat foot in the small compartment, and had been bracing herself for the verdict that was to come.

"Blair-"

"Yes, mother?" A slight tilt of her chin and she was ready to meet her mother's judgment head on. She refused to let any disappointed rant from her mother override Chuck's appreciative look from earlier, but still she couldn't quite keep from holding her breath while she waited for her mother's verdict.

"You look nice. That dress is a good choice."

Blair could only stare at her mother in dumbfounded silence at first, the perfect imitation of a goldfish with her jaw somewhere in level with her knees. For a second she almost thought that she'd heard wrong, so unaccustomed to being complimented by her mother instead of scolded or insulted. Then she quickly composed herself, and dared giving her mother a small smile. "Thank you, mother."

The two women's heels echoed against the marble floor of the lobby as they made their way outside. Chuck's hand resting at the small of Blair's back, and she was forced to send him a warning glare on more than one occasion as his hand slipped lower.

"Good, the limo's here." Eleanor stated, and walked briskly in direction of the black, stretched limousine that was parked a few yards from the door.

"We're riding in the limo, huh?" Chuck mused, and his brewing amusement only increased as he felt Blair's back go rigid under his hand. He noticed her warning, and somewhat murderous, look from out of the corner of his eye but took no notion to the unspoken threat.

"Well yes, of course" Eleanor replied in a tone of voice that wouldn't be out of place had he suggested that they walk, and the four of them got in the car while the driver held the door open. Inside the limo Chuck and Blair sat together on the shorter seat (_that_ seat) and the older couple on the stretched seat opposite the wet bar.

"Blair loves a ride in the limo, don't you _baby_?" Chuck continued, and felt very lucky that they were seated since that prevented the sharper edges of Blair's shoe to come in contact with his shin. He could feel her glare burning a hole in the side of his skull as Cyrus popped open a bottle of champagne and offered them all a glass each. Taking a sip, Chuck leaned back against the soft leather of the seat and offered Blair a mischievous grin."But you do. You love its dark, rousing-" he began, barely able to conceal his mirth, when Blair cut him off.

"It's just a car, _sweetie_." Blair replied through gritted teeth. The pet name sounding more like an insult than a term of endearment. Her hand came to rest on his knee in what from an outside perspective most likely looked affectionate. If one failed to notice the way her finger nails dug into his flesh, that is.

"But it's such a well constructed, _satisfying _ride."

(Please Mr. God, stop his mouth from moving!) Chuck's voice had dropped at least two octaves, and was reeking with innuendo. Her mother and step-father weren't _that _slow, and some things are definitely meant to stay a secret (a very memorable secret, but still.)

"The limo does offer a very pleasurable ride." Cyrus nodded, oblivious of the discussion's true nature. Apparently they really were that clueless after all. Luckily. "An indulgence one can allow every once in a while." At that point Blair had to resist the urge to bury her face in her hands or throw herself out of the moving vehicle. This wasn't happening to her. Her step-father was, even if not knowingly, complementing Chuck on his…performance.

"Pleasurable indeed." Chuck agreed, his gaze travelling from Blair's mouth to where her finger nails were still digging into his thigh. His attention sending a rush of tingles through her system even in spite of their current location and company.

"There are a lot of cars that are just as nice!" She blurted out and let go of Chuck's leg as if she had been burned. It took her about a quarter of a second to realize her mistake. That had _not_ come out the way she planned. Though she couldn't help but wonder what kind of car Nate would be. A Volvo?

"The town car is nice too." She continued in a weak effort to fix her previous mistake. Unfortunately her parents had to voice their opinions and ruin her chances.

"You never use the town car when you're visiting, Blair." Her mother pointed out dryly and had a sip of her champagne.

"Yes, honey, you always want to take the limo." Cyrus agreed with his wife, and Blair had to smother the urge to throw a shoe at the man to shut him up. Next to her on the seat Chuck was forced to cover a snort in a cough.

"You know what they say," Chuck said, once he had recovered a little from the hilarious turn the conversation had taken. "Why settle for less when you can have the best?"

Cyrus chuckled and raised his glass in support, and even Eleanor had to offer a barely noticeable smile at his words. Blair on the other hand looked about three seconds from asphyxiation. There was a nice tint of pink coloring her cheeks, and he could only compliment her on her willpower as she took a deep, steadying breath. When she didn't offer any kind of witty comeback, but instead demonstratively looked out the tinted window and had some champagne, Chuck delivered his final blow. "Besides, what the limo might lack in some departments it most definitely makes up for in size."

That was when Blair choked on her drink and nearly spluttered champagne all over her dress.

XOXO

Poppy looked like a princess in her custom made Vera Wang and Nate was grinning like a man possessed. Blair couldn't help but wonder sarcastically if he had woolen socks on inside his expensive and very shiny, black shoes to keep from getting cold feet this time around. But Nate stayed glued to his spot with Carter next to him, no one had any objections to voice when given the chance by the pastor and the couple said their 'I do's with the complimentary overwhelmed and crying mothers watching in the pews.

The reception was held in a lavish ballroom decorated with thousands of pink roses and strands of white pearls. The food was of the highest standard, the champagne nothing but the most expensive and there was a string quartet playing in the background. It was surprisingly un-tacky, Blair scanned the room in search for the missing link. Oh, there it was. The ice-sculpture. A huge, eye-catching atrocity picturing some kind of animal. Good. Knowing Poppy's sometimes questionable sense of style, a wedding reception without some kind of faux paus from the 'Blair Waldorf book of style' would have been a sure sign the end of the world was approaching.

Chuck was seated across from her at their table, with Serena on one side and a hugely obnoxious college friend of Poppy's named Cassandra on the other. The curvaceous (thanks to a very talented surgeon no doubt), green-eyed blonde was actually another contribution to the 'tacky'-factor of the reception. Cassandra was shamelessly and persistently coming on to Chuck. He in turn did his best to escape her affection without offending her to no avail, while Blair watched in silent glee. Ignoring Chuck's silent plea for her to begin some kind of rescue mission, she returned to the mind numbingly boring conversation about the stock market with her dinner party Mr. Johnson. Served Chuck right for initiating some kind of sex talk in the company of her mother and Cyrus. Cassandra was one step away from Chinese water torture.

The drone of Mr. Johnson made a peaceful background noise as Blair took the opportunity to look at her date. Humming and nodding in all the right places in Mr. Johnson's rant, she watched how Chuck tried to wriggle free of the grip Cassandra had around his lower arm. He definitely had potential, like Cyrus had mentioned earlier. More than potential actually, he had proven to be quite…perfect. Too bad he's a _gigolo_, the menacing voice at the back of her head sing-songed evilly. If that doesn't put him in the 'oh hell no' category, then what could? The gigolo part was definitively a chip in otherwise immaculate china.

XOXO

As the dinner came to an end and the guests were invited to move into the back room where the band would begin to play in a moment, Blair excused herself from the table and made her way to the restroom. She could feel Chuck's eyes on her as she walked away and added a little extra swing to her hips only because she could.

Once inside the empty restroom, she took her time with freshening up and reapplying her lip gloss. Satisfied with her appearance she decided that maybe she could find it in her heart to save Chuck from Cassandra's claws now that the dinner was actually over. Two hours in the miserable company of the air-headed blonde could be deemed punishment enough, and she couldn't help it if the idea of dancing with Chuck felt more than a little appealing. Being close to him, whatever the circumstance, felt tempting. On the other hand, there was always later that night too. Lost in thoughts about her plans for later that evening, Blair didn't see the dark figure hiding in the shadows outside the room until the person grabbed her arm and dragged her back inside. Her surprised yelp was cut short by a kiss and a strong, muscular - and definitely male - body pushing her flush against the door of the restroom. Blair stiffened in fear for a fragment of a second, almost beginning to struggle against her capturer, before she recognized the body pressed up against hers and the way the man nipped at her lower lip. When she did the simmering panic was instantly replaced by a shiver of heat, and with a soft moan she wrapped her arms around Chuck's neck and pulled him closer.

"Vixen," Chuck growled in her ear, kissing his way up her neck.

"You didn't enjoy your little chat with Cassandra?" Blair replied innocently, her hand sliding over his chest underneath his suit jacket. Eager to feel skin she tore impatiently at his pink ascot and greedily tasted the skin she uncovered.

"Somehow she had a hard time accepting my status as a taken man, since my 'girlfriend' ignored me the entire dinner." Chuck scoffed, but then leaned in to capture her lips with his again. Her reply was lost in a haze when he began palming her breasts through the fabric of her dress.

They were back to kissing then, her hips moving against him. Clouds took over her mind. It happened a lot whenever he was around, she realized. When Chuck came close to her she tended to blank out on everything but him.

Her body molded to his, curves fitting perfectly together with sharp angles. The maelstrom was back, more prominent than ever, and despite their location Chuck slid his hand up her thigh and underneath her dress. Blair responded eagerly, until chattering female voices cut through the sound of their labored breathing. The door quaked as someone tried to open it from the outside, and Blair froze to a statue in his arms. Her eyes met his, wide in alarm, and then they got moving. They stumbled further inside the room and found cover inside the nearest cubicle, the door closing behind them just as the women outside made a second attempt to open the door, and having been more successful that time around walked inside.

They were still standing within a hairsbreadth of each other, Chuck far more relaxed than Blair. She barely dared to breathe, and the close proximity to him made it difficult to fill her lungs with air anyway. Once the women were finished and left Blair could finally relax. Considering how close they had come to giving some poor, unsuspecting wedding guests a show, she should feel scandalized. But with adrenaline still pumping in her veins, and Chuck still standing so close, all she could do was give in to the elated dance of butterflies in her stomach and laugh about it. Had they been caught her mother would definitely not have to worry about people talking about her daughter - Nate's ex - coming to the wedding without a date.

"You would have been a lot happier if we hadn't been interrupted." Chuck pointed out as he watched her shake with barely contained laughter.

"We'll have to finish this later," Blair murmured moments later once she had finally regained her composure, tying his ascot for him and tucking it back in place.

"I'll hold you to that."

XOXO

Chuck stood by the bar and followed Blair with his eyes as she danced with Cyrus. Taking a sip of his drink, he let his eyes travel over her features. She really was something. Blair laughed quietly at something Cyrus was saying, and there it was again. That strange sensation. He gave the scotch in the tumbler a suspicious look - et tu brute? - and put it down on the counter top which he was leaning against, returning his focus to Blair again.

"You've got it bad, huh, son?" The inquiring voice belonged to one of the bartenders working the open bar. The man, probably in his late fifties, was busy wiping champagne flutes free of smudges but looked up from his chore when Chuck turned around.

"Pardon?"

"You've got it bad," the bartender repeated, placing the pristine crystal glasses in neat lines. "For the girl, I mean." When Chuck only stared at him in stunned bewilderment, the older man chuckled merrily. "Not that I blame you, she is a real looker that one."

Chuck gaze shifted from the bartender to Blair out on the dance floor and then back to the man again. He couldn't be, could he? He daren't think the word, let alone say it. He's _Chuck Bass_ for fuck's sake. He's not meant for…_that_.

XOXO

"Mind if I cut in?"

Blair recognized the velvet voice in less than a heartbeat but barely had time to react before Cyrus stepped back, chuckling happily as he did, and allowed Chuck to take his place. The tingles that shot up her spine when Chuck's hand came to rest on her lower back and pulled her closer was no longer unexpected, but for that matter not any less overwhelming.

They swayed slowly to the music, brown eyes locked on brown. Blind to anything but each other. It felt like the dance the princess danced with her prince in the fairytales. Perfect.

"You looked pretty hot on Cyrus' arm before." Chuck leaned in and murmured in her ear, his breath fanning against her skin and leaving goose bumps in its wake.

"Is that all I am to you, just an accessory?" Blair replied jokingly, tilting her head back to look at him.

"Next to him, yes." Chuck smirked, his lips brushing along her jaw on their way to the other side of her head, his mouth once again close to her ear, "On me you'd be so much more."

"But I can't be _on_ you, remember?" Blair smiled, emphasizing the word 'on' with nails scraping against the fabric covering his shoulder, "Not until later. Besides, we could be a little more creative than that, don't you think?"

It was then that Chuck decided that maybe (just maybe) wanting to spend more time with Blair might not be the worst thing that could happen to him.

XOXO

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_Thanks for reading!_

_Review?_

_Camilla_


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N** Chapter ten. Wow, I feel like I started this fic no more than a week ago. _

_**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter!!!** Sadly, I don't have time to get back to you on your reviews this time, I'm leaving for a three week backpacking trip to Ireland tomorrow and have a ton of stuff to do before that, but I appreciate every single one of your reviews beyond words! _

_(Yes, that means the next update will take a little longer than normal...I promise to make it worth the wait!)_

_Oh, before I forget. Yes, Blair's dress was the one from 1x18. I think that's my favorite Blair outfit ever. Chuck's outfit is from Seventeen Candles :)_

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Blair could've danced all night. But no matter how nice it was being close to Chuck her feet weren't in the same state of bliss and they were soon forced to take a break. Had she ever been under the impression that the high heeled shoe had been invented by a man, she would've been forced to let go of that illusion that evening. She offered her best friend a smile as the blonde came walking towards her. "I see you decided to rescue Chuck from Cassandra's claws after all." Serena said, looking after Chuck as he walked over to the bar to get him and Blair some drinks.

"I figured he'd been tortured enough with thrilling conversation subjects as the difference between lip gloss and lip balm." She mused, and her blonde friend let out a tinkling laugh.

"You guys looked amazing on that dance floor." Serena smiled and flicked a mass of blonde curls over her shoulder. Blair could barely suppress the grin that threatened to split her face in halves. The butterflies were dancing in joyous swirls, and as long as she kept the less than perfect issue of reality firmly locked away at the back of her mind, her life was looking pretty good at the moment. "Oh, there's Nate and Poppy! I haven't had the chance to congratulate them yet." Serena said, and waved at the couple to come over.

The newlyweds looked deliriously happy, Nate with an arm around Poppy's waist as they walked. "Hi, S. Blair." Nate grinned, brushing a hand through his perfectly tousled hair.

"Congratulations Natie!" Serena exclaimed and hugged their childhood friend with such force he almost lost his footing. Nate laughed at her antics, and lifted her off the ground and twirled around with Serena laughing like a madwoman in his arms.

"Yes, congratulations." Blair echoed and hugged Poppy - if not less enthusiastically. When they broke apart she caught Nate looking at her with an apprehensive look on his face.

"Don't look at me like that, Archibald." She admonished laughingly, reminding him not to feel sorry for her, and stepped in to hug him too. "We talked about this. I'm happy for you." She whispered against his neck, breathing in the so very familiar scent of him. It smelled like childhood and safety, and she couldn't help but compare it with the intoxicating scent that invaded her mind whenever Chuck was around.

"Thanks, Blair." Nate replied, hugging her tighter for a second before pulling back. With her arms still around his neck, she smiled at his goofy grin. How could she ever have thought that they were destined to be anything more than friends?

"I told you, baby." Poppy smiled at Nate and interrupted Blair's trip down Memory Lane. "Blair is way too reasonable to hold a grudge over some silly, onetime thing."

The comment alone would've probably had Blair under the impression that something wasn't quite right, and with Nate flinching slightly in her arms, there was no doubt about it. Uncertainty crept over her like a mist, and she immediately looked to Nate for some kind of reassurance. Expecting him to offer her a reasonable explanation to his wife's mysterious choice of words. But one glimpse of him was enough to tell her that he would offer no such thing.

"Poppy, there's someone over there that's waving for you guys to come over" Serena interjected, and there was definitely an odd strain to the blonde's voice.

"What onetime thing?" Blair questioned and let go of Nate. Crossing her arms across her chest instinctively. She'd always been able to read Nate like an open book, and this time was no different. Something was up. He looked uneasy…_guilty_.

"Uh-" Nate began, his eyes darting between her and Serena.

"It's not like we meant for it to happen." Poppy was still babbling, stepping closer to Nate and taking over the space that Blair was vacating. "And Nate was really worried about telling you, but I told him he shouldn't worry about it."

They didn't mean for what to happen? Blair's mind was reeling, a buzzing noise forming in her ears. "What. Onetime. Thing?" She uttered the words in such threatening calm that the other three immediately turned their attention towards her. Nate still looked guilty; Serena slightly panicked and Poppy in turn looked almost as confused as Blair was feeling.

"You didn't tell her?" Poppy frowned and looked over to Nate. The latter looking as if he would pass out at any second.

"Poppy, listen-" Serena began, but Blair cut her off with a glare and turned back to Nate.

"Tell me what, Nate?"

"You told me the two of you had sorted it out and that she forgave you!" Poppy snapped accusingly and began to look a little upset too. "I can't believe you didn't talk to her, baby! The Shepherd wedding was forever ago!"

The Shepherd wedding. The wedding that had become the UES wedding of the year when the Waldorf/Archibald wedding had turned into a real life version of "the runaway groom". Blair hadn't attended the lavish ceremony. Not because she felt threatened by the 'competition', but because the hassle and stress of planning her own engagement party had landed her with an impressively nasty cold - leaving her bedridden for three whole days. Nate had had to go without her, she'd been adamant at least one of them made an appearance. And she'd needed an insider to spy and make sure their flower arrangements didn't look too much alike, since the bride had chosen a color palette similar to the one Blair herself had picked_. Don't forget to take a picture of the flowers_, she'd said to Nate and ushered him out the door in his tux, _Serena and the others will be there to keep you company_.

The_ others_. Poppy. The Shepherd wedding. Onetime thing.

The realization dawned on her the same way a flame eats its way through a piece of paper. She remembered it well then. How Nate had been so distant after the Shepherd wedding. How he'd acted so un-Nate-like that she'd even confided in Serena and asked the blonde for advice. _It's nothing_, her friend had reassured her, _probably just wedding nerves, your engagement party is only a week away, he'll come around_. Oh, he came around alright. Only to bail again three weeks later on their wedding day and leave her to clean up the mess and the pieces of her broken heart.

Blair vaguely registered Poppy's annoying voice ranting on and on beside her, felt someone tugging at her arm. "…we never meant for it to happen-" Poppy blathered on, and Blair needed her to _shut up_. Serena was pulling at her wrist,

"B? Are you okay?"

The question brought her out of her haze and she came back to reality with a crash. Took in Serena's worried blue eyes and Poppy's self-protecting ramble. Then there was Nate, looking at her like he'd just accidentally pushed Dorota in front of a bus. "Blair-" he began, taking a step toward her and making a move as if to take her hand in his. The one of his hands currently sporting the shiny, new platinum wedding band.

He married Poppy. He cheated on you with that man-stealing, tacky socialite and now he's married to _her_ and you paid a _gigolo_ to accompany you to his damn wedding.

"No." Blair snapped and efficiently cut Nate off - shielding away from his touch - her harsh tone causing even Poppy to stop talking. "Don't you dare put your two-timing hands on me! You make me sick!"

With bile rising in her throat, Blair feared that she might actually be sick for real. The sensation mixed with the flames licking and shredding her insides with scorching heat, leaving nothing but burnt, black slivers behind. She had to get away. Nate flinched at her words but didn't make another move to touch her, his hand still hovering in the air. Blair wanted nothing more than to smack that sheepish, guilty expression of his face with her clutch.

"Blair-" Serena was the next one to step closer and try and calm her down.

"Did you know?" Her voice didn't sound like hers anymore. It sounded too cold, too distant to belong to her. Could it really be the same voice that had laughed and promised Chuck a rain check on the PDA in the restroom less than one hour ago?

"B, please-" Serena didn't answer her question, but the look on the blonde's face along with the nervous look Nate gave her best friend was more than answer enough. Blair swallowed hard, if finding out your ex-fiancé cheated on you was a knife in the chest, then the best friend knowing about it and not telling you was the final, lethal twist of the blade. Serena's betrayal hurt more than everything else.

"You know," Blair turned to Poppy who looked like she wished to be abducted by aliens right that very minute, "I always knew you were a whore," she spat, ignoring the offended gasp from Poppy and the stuttered objection Nate offered in his wife's defense. Then Blair returned her attention to her best friend - the girl she'd considered her sister for as long as she could remember - with tears burning in the corners of her eyes, "but I never knew _you_ were a liar."

Her movements felt sluggish as she turned around to leave, as if she was moving under water. She needed to get out of there. She needed _him_. When Serena's hand closed around her wrist again it gave reason for the anger to flare up. "B-"

"No!" Blair hissed, yanking herself free from the blonde's grip. "He cheated on me,"

"I know, but-"

"Nate cheated on me with that _whore_, and you knew all along." Her voice came dangerously close to breaking, and she swallowed before she continued with barely contained distress. "You knew, Serena, and you didn't tell me. You're supposed to be my best friend - my _sister_ - and you didn't tell me. I'm not going to stay here and pretend like that's okay, because it's not. It's _not_ okay."

XOXO

Chuck made his way towards the bar, contemplating walking across the lavish ballroom to the other one to avoid that smug, know-it-all bartender. But then a familiar-looking profile stole his attention and he froze mid-step. Then, with a grace he'd had no idea he possessed, he threw himself behind a group of men discussing the stock-market to avoid being seen. _Fuck_.

Turning around with the intention of finding Blair and in some way (any way) convince her to say her goodbyes and go home with him, he cursed silently for the second time in less than ten seconds. Blair was hugging her good-for-nothing ex and the sight made his blood pressure spike possessively. Frowning, Chuck was about to walk over there and get Nate's hands off his date, when he saw Blair pull back with a frown on her face. From that on Chuck could only watch in growing trepidation as the scene played out in front of him like a silent movie. _Double fuck_. Judging from the sheepish look on the blond man's face and Serena's nervous expression, all hell had just broken loose. Someone had told Blair. All but groaning in frustration Chuck watched how Blair tensed visibly and barely managed to put on a mask of angered indifference.

Chuck had known. He hadn't wanted to, but he'd known about it. The two-timing groom had, in a beer-induced state of mind, shared some very unwanted information with him concerning the man's earlier indiscretion with the socialite brunette. It had pissed Chuck off. Both because Blair didn't deserve a cheating fiancé, and because he didn't want to be the one having to tell Blair about it. Didn't like the feeling of obligation one bit (when did he grow a conscious anyway?)

But he had come to terms with his fate, and had planned on telling her once she got back from the bachelorette party. But then she'd showed up outside the hotel and caught him off guard, looking so damn happy and carefree. At that point Chuck had just thought 'fuck it', and later when she'd leaned over and kissed him inside of the limo, he'd been a lost cause anyway.

But apparently now she knew, and she was hurting. It made his insides clench - seeing that broken look on her face that was barely hidden behind an angry sneer. He watched her throw some kind of vicious insult in Poppy's direction and turn to walk away. When Serena grabbed her by the wrist, Blair spun around like the crack of a whip, her face contorted from the effort of holding herself together. Serena let go as if she'd been burned, and both him and the blonde looked after Blair's retreating form as she stormed out of the ballroom.

Their eyes met, and he scowled at the pleading, apologetic look in Serena's eyes. She'd known too, he assumed. Wasn't there like a 'girl code of conduct' for stuff like that? With a last icy glare in Serena's direction, Chuck left the room in search of his date.

XOXO

Chuck made his way down the empty hallway, Blair nowhere to be seen. Cursing under his breath he was about to turn around and head outside when he spotted a familiar looking shape inside a dark, closed ballroom. Stepping through the grand glass doors, he could tell that it was in fact Blair leaning against a table with her back to him.

"Hey," he called out quietly, pausing in the doorway for a moment before shutting the door behind him. _You are so out of your league man_, he thought to himself, _since when are you the one to comfort a girl?_ But he needed her not to hurt, so he decided to do his best. "What are you doing out here?" He continued, when there was no response from the brunette, and walked up to where she was standing.

He was expecting tears or sobbing rants. Mentally prepared for hysterical crying. He wasn't, on the other hand, prepared for Blair throwing herself at him and attacking his mouth with shocking fervor, her hands fisting in his hair. Chuck stumbled backwards, his hands instinctively coming up to rest on her hips. "Take me now." She breathed against his skin before kissing him again. Caught completely off guard, Blair was done unbuttoning half the buttons of his shirt before Chuck could get himself together enough to protest.

"No," he managed to choke out, breaking off the kiss. Still recovering from her unexpected…outburst, he saw as much as felt Blair go rigid in his arms before pushing him away.

"Am I not good enough for you, is that it?" Blair hissed, rejection washing over her in waves and tearing on her already crumbling defense. "Well that seems to be common protocol, so join the club!"

"That's not what I was saying." Chuck retorted, buttoning his shirt up in jerky movements. She had almost got him out of his shirt entirely before he could even form a complete sentence. Given other circumstances he would've been impressed.

"I'm sorry, is it not in your job description to sleep with women?"

"It's not in the _job description_ to be your sexual punching bag!" Chuck spat, "If you want to sleep with _me_, I'll take you home right now and fuck you senseless. But I won't be used in some sort of delayed revenge on your cheating ex!"

"Who the hell does he think he is anyway?" Blair shrieked suddenly, throwing her arms in the air in exasperation. "I'm _Blair Waldorf_, you don't cheat on me! I'm not Jennifer Aniston!" She finished, before spinning around and attempting to storm off again.

"Whoa," Chuck called out and grabbed a hold around her waist to prevent her from leaving. As soon as he touched her, Blair stopped in her tracks. Still with her back to him she drew a ragged breath.

"I hate them." She whispered fierily and Chuck could feel her tremble with the effort of holding it all in.

"I know," He replied and watched her shoulders sag in defeat. Slowly, as one would a spooked horse, he closed the space between them and then offered her his hand. Pleased beyond belief when she reached out and slid her hand into his (maybe he wasn't that bad at the whole comforting thing after all?)

"I could always punch him in the face, if you want?" He offered, and breathed a sigh of relief when she laughed quietly at his suggestion.

"Somehow I don't picture you as the type that throws a punch."

"I must admit, social destruction has always been my forte." Chuck smirked, and his expression quickly turned devious. "We could always tell people he's impotent..."

"I like the way you think."

"You like the way I…_think_, huh?" Chuck drawled, coming to a halt and pulling her close. Now there was something he was well adept in.

"Amongst other things," Blair agreed, grinning as she tugged at his belt buckle and his breathing hitched. "Now, I believe I made you a promise earlier, Bass."

"That you did." Chuck murmured against the crock of her neck, drawing circles on her lower back.

A brief moment of eye contact, and then they walked hurriedly towards the doors. Within seconds they were out the door. With Blair's hand still in his, Chuck pulled her with him as he walked down the hallway, heading for the exit, when a voice cut through the buzz coming from the wedding guests inside the ballroom.

"Charles?"

Fuck. Chuck could literally feel the blood in his veins turn to ice as the too familiar voice called out for him questioningly. He had to get out of there right that goddamn second. Not bothering with acknowledging the voice at all he kept on walking. Too bad Blair slowed down, and looked over to him confusedly.

"Chuck, I think that woman is-"

"I have no idea who she is," Chuck snarled, lying through his teeth. "Come on, movie star, let's go."

(Keep moving, Bass.)

"Charles," The person behind the voice wouldn't give up, and this time Blair really did stop and refused to budge - shooting him a questioning look. He was acting weird again. "Chuck Bass?" Defeated, Chuck slowly turned around and found himself looking into a pair of stormy grey eyes.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

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_Thanks for reading!_

_Yes. This is where my fic diverts from the movie plot._

_Cliffie!_

_Please don't hate me, and please review! ;)_

_Camilla_


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N** I'm baaaack. Those of you who read my last AN knows that I've been backpacking for three weeks, but now I'm back home and writing again. This update took a little longer than planned, I suffered from writer's block...and then school started, and I'm preparing to move next week too..life's crazy. To make it all up to you, I've made this chapter the longest yet! ;) _

_Time to find out some more about the woman with the grey eyes!_

_**Flashback in italics**_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!_

_This is un-beta'd, my apologies in advance for any mistakes._

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_

_There was a knock at the door but Chuck ignored it - just like he had ignored his phone ringing minutes before – and instead buried his face deeper in the fluffy pillows and threw the covers over his head. The person at the door didn't relent however, and the knocking grew more insistent. What the fuck? Who had the nerve to be knocking at his door before noon on a goddamn Monday? Chuck's head was pounding, literally feeling as if it was to fall off at any second, and despite the state his throat was in he was pretty sure he hadn't consumed a bucket of sand last night. To say that Mondays were not his favorite day would be a huge understatement._

"_G'way." He mumbled sleepily into the pillows, unfortunately positive that the person couldn't hear a word he said. The warm - and most likely more than willing, he's Chuck Bass - body next to him in the king size bed stirred and a hand slid up his back, underneath the pajama shirt. The annoyed knocking stopped, and Chuck breathed a sigh of relief. Now he could spend the rest of his morning in bed with what's-her-name instead of having to call security and have what was most likely last week's conquest removed from the premises. Then he'd send her on her way and get that hangover cure mixed together, a thirty minute shower and then a smoke to kick-start the day. Perfect._

_However, the last thought vanished quickly when he heard the unmistakable sound of a key card being inserted into the slot. Fuck. Only one person had the key to his suite except for him. Chuck rapidly moved up to a sitting position, ready to tell the girl next to him to get lost, but had undoubtedly moved too fast and instead of speaking found himself clutching his pounding head in his hands and groaning as he waited for the room to stop spinning._

_That was how his father found him when the older man walked through the door. Bart Bass was immaculately dressed in a dark suit, pale blue button down and expensive silk tie. His disappointed frown firmly in place as his icy glare fell on Chuck in the bed._

"_Charles, I-"_

_The beginning of Bart's reprimand was cut short when what's-her-name sat up in bed, stretching lazily and completely ignoring how the covers slipped off her and revealed more than enough to taint her modesty. In his favor Bart barely batted an eyelid at the sight of the girl's exposed chest. The girl however startled when she spotted the older Bass standing in the middle of the room. When she didn't move fast enough Chuck gave her an impatient shove, and she quickly got out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom, retrieving her clothes from the floor as she went. Chuck watched her go, all the time feeling his father's eyes on him and wishing he hadn't been found in bed, in his pajamas, with yesterday's entertainment. He definitely preferred full armor for a confrontation with the all-mighty Bart Bass._

"_That's my-"_

"_Decorator, I'm aware." Chuck cut him off with a shrug, taking on an air of indifference that clashed magnificently with his racing heart. Shit, shit, shit. Determined not to show any sign of weakness, Chuck slung the covers off and got out of bed too, brushing a hand through his disheveled hair._

"_If that ends up in the press -" Bart's tone was grim._

_Chuck could do nothing but smirk at his father's concern as he fastened his 6000 dollar Breitling to his wrist. If his latest endeavor ended up in the press then no one in Las Vegas would be surprised. Everyone already had their mind made up about who Charles Bartholomew Bass was and what he was about. Women, booze and partying. Denying himself the luxury of swallowing hard against the_

_Swallowing hard Chuck arranged his features into a blank, unbothered expression again before turning around to face his father. 'So?' said the barely visible lift of his brow._

"_I called you." Bart eyes narrowed at the nonchalant gesture and Chuck had to force himself not to deflate like a pricked balloon under the man's glare._

"_I was busy," Chuck replied, picking up his phone from the bedside table and checking it absentmindedly for new messages. One missed call; Bart._

_Bart made a indistinct sound at his son's response, and stole a glance at his own equally pricey timepiece. "I'm late for a meeting, I don't have time to deal with this-" The older Bass' gaze travelled across the room where clothes were scattered all over, a pair of fire-engine red, women's thong particularly eye-catching in the middle of the room. "You'll call Renée later today and set up a meeting, I want to talk to you."_

_Chuck could barely hold back a snort. Sure, he'd call his father's secretary and set up an appointment for a nice little father-to-son chat. Yippee-fucking-yay._

_Bart turned around and left the suite after a last look of disapproval in his son's direction. The door closed with a bang and the room fell eerily quiet. Chuck sat down on the bed, his right hand clenched in a tight fist where it rested on his thigh. He barely heard the door of the bathroom open, or noticed another person's presence until two arms slid down his chest from behind, slipping underneath his shirt, and soft lips brushed against the skin on his neck._

"_I'd thought he'd never leave." The blonde cooed, nibbling annoyingly on his earlobe._

_Suddenly the girl's (Amber? Amelia?) hold around his torso felt suffocating. "And now it's your turn." Chuck deadpanned, untangling himself from her arms and standing up._

"_Excuse me?"_

_He could hear the frown on her face in her voice and sighed. "You heard me. Get out." He scoffed and walked over to the bar. The tumblers were waiting for him. He reached for the crystal carafe in a habituated motion and poured himself a generous amount of amber liquid. Screw hangover cures; he'd need the numbing buzz of Scotch if he'd be forced to go another round with the elder Bass later on. Putting the glass to his lips and knocking his head back, Chuck downed the glass' content in one go, ignoring his stomach's protest and the burning sensation in his throat._

"_But I thought-" The girl began, her voice quivering. _

"_Why are you still talking?" Chuck asked with a roll of his eyes, busy with filling the tumbler back up and with drink in hand then made his way towards the bathroom. He could hear the girl moving around the room in search of her shoes and bag, and paused in the doorway to make sure that she actually left._

"_You're an asshole." She declared angrily before leaving the room, slamming the door shut behind her._

"_Like father, like son" Chuck muttered to himself as he made his way inside the bathroom and closed the door. Once inside he leaned back against the door and closed his eyes, his head hitting the wood with a thud and a shuddering breath escaping his lips. He fucking hated Mondays._

XOXOXOXO

Chuck could easily have named a million places in the world where he would rather have been in the moment when he turned around and came face to face with that all too familiar pair of grey eyes. Out of all the people in the world, the woman standing a few feet away from him and Blair - looking at him in mild amusement - was easily on his top ten of people-avoid-at-all-costs list. Even running in to a former client wouldn't have been half as fucking bad.

Blair wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. That the pristine, marble floor would crack and allow her to sink into darkness and hiding. The all-consuming need, _want_, to get out of the horrid hotel and let Chuck do exactly what he'd promised he would in the sanctuary of her bedroom, take her mind off the overpowering, bitter sadness twisting in her gut, quickly evaporating. The woman must be a former client of Chuck's, there was no doubt in her mind about it, and she was mentally kicking herself for ever coming up with the idea of calling him. Would it really have been that horrible to attend this sorry excuse of a wedding without a date? Now everyone would find out that not only was Blair Waldorf not enough to keep her fiancé from cheating, she couldn't even find a normal guy to take her to said ex-fiancé's wedding.

The woman was looking at them with undisguised curiosity. She looked to be in her fifties, her blonde hair pulled up in a sleek up-do and her pale complexion and grey eyes discreetly accented with professionally applied make up. She looked like the epitome of the wealthy UES wife with her glittering diamonds and designer outfit, and not like some lonely old hag that paid for a toy boy to keep her company. But on the other hand, she preferred to think of herself as someone who didn't look like she needed to hire an escort herself either. Blair was seething, how could Chuck agree to accompany her here if he knew he had had clients from New York before?

"Hello Charles." The woman smiled, and approached Chuck who was standing frozen next to Blair. When the woman moved Chuck let go of Blair's hand as if he'd been burned.

What now, Bass? Chuck thought to himself. Pretend she's got the wrong guy? No. He didn't want that. This might be the worst possible timing in the history of bad timings, but there were very few people in his life that he genuinely cared about, and he wasn't about to pretend like he didn't. Even if it meant that all hell would break loose. Besides, it's not like Miranda would let him get away with it anyway.

Chuck quickly pulled himself together and walked up to meet the older woman. "Miranda," he drawled, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on her cheek. "You look dazzling, as always."

The older woman's face lit up at his compliment, "And you in turn are just as charming." She smiled.

Blair watched the exchange in silent confusion. When the woman that was apparently named Miranda raised her hand to Chuck's cheek, even if the gesture that looked oddly maternal, the pang of jealousy was unexpected and surprising, almost keeping her from noticing the glittering wedding band on Miranda's left ring finger. A _married_ former client? The situation was getting more and more confusing with each passing second. When the older woman turned to Blair with a curious smile on her face, Blair felt like she'd ended up on Candid Camera.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your lovely date, Charles?"

"Miranda, this is Blair Waldorf." Chuck did as she asked him to, gesturing between the two women. "Blair, this is Miranda Ross -" He trailed off after that, trying to decide what the proper introduction should be whilst deftly ignoring the confused look Blair was giving him. At last, he went with half a truth. No point in lying with Miranda there to dig his grave even deeper if he did, "a friend of my father's."

The two women shook hands. Blair with a most suspicious look on her face where as Miranda looked absolutely delighted. In any other circumstance Chuck would have rolled his eyes at her evident approval. Leave it up to Miranda to play matchmaker even after all those years. "Speaking of Bart," Miranda went on once the introductions had been dealt with, "I'm having lunch with him later this week, I'll be sure to tell him I ran in to you. He'll be pleased to know that you're back in New York."

"You won't breathe a word about this to him," Chuck snapped, "I'm not 'back in town' and even if I was he wouldn't care." His acid reply startled Miranda and had the smile on her lips fading visibly.

Blair too was shocked about the venomous way Chuck suddenly spoke to the older woman, but immediately understood the underlying reason. One child with more than enough experience of a strained parent-child relationship recognized another one easily when she found one.

"I take it the two of you have yet to reconcile your differences."

Chuck let out a humorless laugh. 'Reconcile your differences', was an interesting synonym for unceasingly fatherly disappointment and neglect. "If by that you mean that he still considers me his biggest failure yet, then yes." Chuck sneered, and then snapped his mouth shut, feeling like he'd said too much. Revealed too much.

When his old confidant reached out for him - to put a comforting hand on his arm, no doubt - he stepped back with a scowl on his face. _You're not my mother_. Miranda opened her mouth to say something, but a man calling out her name at the end of the hallway interrupted whatever it was that she'd planned to say. She looked briefly over her shoulder and waved in acknowledgement, and then returned her attention to Chuck.

"Your father-" Miranda began, but started over; "It saddens me to see the two of you like this, that's all. Life's too short." She admitted softly and - ignoring the warning look Chuck's face - gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Richard's waiting for me. It really was nice seeing you again Charles, it's been too long."" She explained, turning her attention to Blair when Chuck didn't reply but simply stared at the intricate pattern in the marble tiles of the hotel's floor. "Nice to meet you too, Blair." And with those words the older woman turned around and headed down the hall towards the waiting man after a last, sad look in Chuck's direction.

Silence fell. Blair's mind was reeling. The hurt caused by Nate and Serena's betrayal still gnawing in her gut blended with the newly brought on confusion. But when seconds passed the blur of thoughts and questions caused by the last few minutes of conversation slowly began to slow down. Chuck's father, Bart? Then the fact that the woman actually looked vaguely familiar. _Miranda Ross_. Brief images of newspaper articles and lavish functions she'd attended during high school flashing before her eyes. Miranda Ross, that a few years back became the only female board member of-

That's when the pieces of the puzzle fell into place; washing over her in crushing waves. Lies. So many lies. It was all a sham, can't you see? A good laugh at your expense. He's just like Nate, just like the rest of them. Liars. The anger flared up again, licking at her insides.

Chuck could feel Blair's glare burn a hole into the side of his skull. Would she give the raging bitch act a fucking rest already? It's hardly his fault one of the few people in New York that knows who he is decides to show up at the same event they're attending. He might have...kept some things private, so what? He doesn't owe her anything.

"Bart Bass is you father." Blair didn't phrase it like a question because it wasn't one. She hadn't been that sure of anything since she decided to make headbands her signature piece. But the idea still hurt. Chuck didn't reply. His cowardly behavior pissed her off even more. "He is, isn't he? Big Bad Bart Bass is your father, you lied-"

"I didn't lie." Chuck turned his head around and met her glare head on, efficiently cutting her off. You don't owe her anything, the voice kept chanting inside his head. "Yes. Bart Bass is one of the names on my birth certificate." And that's practically all he's ever been too - a name on a paper, a disapproving frown in the background - he added to himself.

Even though she had positively sure, hearing Chuck confirm her suspicion was surprisingly painful. Humiliating. No one messes around with Blair Waldorf. "So what was this?" Blair hissed, motioning the air between them that was - for the first time in a long time - not sizzling and sparkling with glorious tension. It left Blair feeling cold and numb. "A good laugh at my expense?"

No, not at all. Nothing like that. I'd never laugh at you. The thoughts were swirling and Chuck was grasping for words, for the right thing to say. Blair fought it well, but he could see the hurt begin to seep through her mask. It made his chest constrict painfully. First her mother, then that no-good-son-of-a-bitch ex of hers, the best friend, and now him. Now _he_ was the reason for the devastated look in her eyes and Chuck didn't like it. Hated it, actually.

"Are you even a gigolo?" Blair hissed. How dare they humiliate her like that?

"Oh for fucks sake!" Chuck snapped. As if he'd make something like that up! Actually, once upon a time that might have been exactly what he'd done for a good laugh. But not this time, and that had definitely been the wrong answer. He realized his mistake as soon as the words escaped his lips. Bad move, Bass.

Blair had never been the one to back out of a fight and especially not one that included defending herself. But this was too much; she had to get out of there. Get away from them, from Chuck. "This thing between us, it's over, for good." Chuck's eyes widened a fraction at that, but before he could open his smarmy, lying mouth and say something that would convince her to stay, Blair turned on her heels and walked away.

The sight of her back as she stormed off brought Chuck out of his stunned trance. "Slow down there Waldorf!" He called out after her and took off after her. When Blair simply ignored him and didn't turn around, his chest tightened.

Shit, that woman could walk impossibly fast in those ridiculously high heels. Cursing vehemently, Chuck quickened his pace and managed to get a hold of Blair's elbow, spinning her around to face him again. He couldn't explain why, but he needed to see her face. This felt horribly similar to a break-up, not that he'd ever been through one before. "What are you doing?" Don't go. Don't do this. Don't run; you're not a coward. Fight. Yell at me or slap me in the face. Don't look at me like that, like I'm a disappointment. "This isn't you."

Blair's lip curled in distaste as she yanked her arm free from his grip forcefully. "How would you know?!" She spat, her brown eyes unyielding and furious. "Do you _know_ me know? Don't make me laugh, _Bass_!"

"Blair, I didn't mean -" Chuck began, and reached out for her shaking hand. A part of him still humming in content from the way she had so easily slid her hand into his a few minutes ago. This time her reaction was a whole different story.

Backing away from his touch, Blair shot him a last look of undiluted anger; "Don't talk to me!"

XOXO

Blair marched out of the elevator with determined strides, her jaw set in a firm line and her brow furrowed in anger. Dorota came hurrying down the hallway, and the maid's eyes widened at the sight of her young protégé. "Ms. Blair, you back early." Dorota began, looking for something behind Blair, "Where Mr. Chuck?"

His name was like a spear slicing through the anger. "Pack Mr.-" Blair paused for a fraction of a second, but her feet not slowing down the slightest as she made her way down the hall. "…_Chuck's_ things, Dorota. He's leaving." She replied shortly.

"But, Ms Blair-" Dorota answered her in apparent confusion, twisting the duster in her hand nervously.

"Now, Dorota!" The maid almost flinched at her outburst and Blair, feeling guilty, added a softer, shaky; "Please."

The unusually humble wording from her young Ms. was all Dorota needed to spring into protector mode. "Yes, Ms Blair, I will go pack." Dorota smiled comfortingly and hurried down the hallway in direction of the stairs. "You go have sandwich, I made fresh for snack."

Blair didn't reply. Unless the sandwiches were made of vodka there was no way in hell she'd be touching them.

XOXO

Chuck walked swiftly down the busy New York street, pissed as hell, and trying to come to terms with exactly how things had been so screwed up. It wasn't his goddamn fault! But then why did he feel so guilty? He hadn't followed Blair when she stormed off for the umpteenth time, her words still ringing in his ears. 'This thing between us, it's over, for good'. 'Don't talk to me!'. 'How would you know?!'.

The doorman nodded in greeting as Chuck walked through the door of Blair's building and made his way over to the elevator. Once the compartment reached the Waldorf apartment he stepped out only to find the place strangely quiet. "Blair?" He called out, not really sure why but doing it anyway. Then his eyes landed on the suitcases by the elevator. His suitcases. A jolt of panic surged through his bloodstream and Chuck was suddenly in a hurry again. He walked quickly down the empty hallway, the sound of his steps echoing in the silence.

Blair wasn't in her room, but Dorota was. The maid looked up from his suitcase when he walked through the door, blushing a little at the sight of him. "Where's Blair? I need to talk to her."

"Ms. Blair downstairs, told to pack Mr. Chuck's things…" The maid explained uncertainly.

"That's alright, I can take it from here Dorota, thank you."

When he made his way downstairs with the last bag Dorota was pacing nervously in the foyer. Chuck opened his mouth to ask for Blair, only to close it again when the brunette stepped out right in front of him, just leaving the kitchen.

Blair froze at the sight of him. "Dorota, go polish something!" She demanded a few heartbeats later. The maid swiftly making herself scarce. "Your bags are over there." Blair jerked her head in direction of the elevator, crossing her arms defensively across her chest.

"Blair, please-" Chuck was fairly sure he'd never said please that many times in such a short amount of time in his life, and a part of him was scowling at the humble phrasing, but for some reason unknown to him he couldn't give up just yet. For once he didn't want the easy way out.

"I told you, it's over." Blair cut him off, raising her jaw defiantly and staring him down. "I'm done." Done with being second best, done with being betrayed and lied to. She swallowed hard to try and get rid of the lump in her throat.

Chuck cringed inwardly. The unnerving, nauseating fluttering was back. It felt like a bunch of mutant wasps were running amok in his gut. "I can explain-"

Could he though, could he really explain? He wasn't sure, but he sure as hell wanted the chance.

"What part of over is it that you don't understand? I'll try to be more succinct. You held a certain fascination when you played the part, filled your purpose, and kept your mouth shut. But now you're like…one of the French chefs my mother used to rent; a disappointment. You don't measure up to expectations, but I'm sure you're used to that."

Chuck stared at her in silence for what felt like a million years, and Blair could feel her resolve begin to weaken. That had been a low blow, even for her. Gathering her strength, she raised an eyebrow questioningly in Chuck's direction when he didn't move.

"You should know, movie star." Chuck finally replied icily, and then walked off. Over at the elevator he grabbed his bags and almost threw them inside the waiting elevator. Then, without looking back, Chuck stepped inside the elevator and disappeared out of sight. The merry chime of the elevator doors closing felt like a slap in the face to Blair, and she only then realized how utterly exhausted she was. She climbed the stairs up to her room in a haze, ignoring Dorota's worried voice calling out for her.

Her room still smelled of him. Blinking against the tears that started to blur her vision, Blair sat down in front of her vanity. She must look a mess, she thought, her hand subconsciously fisting over the tightness in her chest. Don't cry. (don't cry, don't cry, they're not worth it.)

But as her eyes landed on an envelope - still full of crisp dollar bills _('__Six thousand is what we agreed on, correct?'…'Count it'…'No need, I trust you'_) that Chuck had left behind - crying is exactly what she did.

XOXO

* * *

_Thanks for reading!!!_

_Are you guys still out there? Was it worth the wait?_

_Review?! ;)_

_Camilla_


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N** Finally! I've tried uploading this chapter at least 20 times, but ff wouldn't co-operate! _

_Now to the important stuff; thank you sooo much for your reviews on the last chapter!!! I couldn't have wished for a better 'welcome home' present! :)_

_Thank you's also to the lovely Noirreigne for her beta work on this chapter!!!_

_Look, Maddy! I'm throwing exclamation marks around too!_

_Flashback in italics (!)_

_Alright, I better stop typing before I make an even bigger fool out of myself..I'm in the middle of my move, and I'm exhausted :)_

* * *

"_Blair, it's me. I really need to talk to you…explain about…everything. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about what happened at the Shepherd wedding, I really am. Please call me back."_

_XOXO_

"_B? Are you screening my calls? Please pick up. Blair? I really need to talk to you. You're my best friend, I miss you. Please call me."_

_XOXO_

"_Blair, it's your mother. You wouldn't know what possessed Serena to turn down my offer, would you? This is ridiculous. Call me first thing when you hear this._

_XOXO_

"_B, I'm so sorry about everything, I should have told you about Nate and Poppy, I just... I miss you, please call me back."_

XOXO

Blair picked up the pink glass bowl from the table, carefully wrapping it in paper before putting it in the box on the floor. If you looked up 'when things can't get any worse-' in an encyclopedia, you would find a picture of Blair Cornelia Waldorf, of that Blair was absolutely positive. She had never thought there was such a thing as too successful, but apparently there was. Apparently you can't up a publication's market value 150% and not be promoted and transferred back to New York as a 'treat'. Back to the UES, to Serena, to Nate. Funny how she had been planning her glorious return to NYC since she first relocated to San Francisco two years ago and realized that life wasn't as fun without her friends there with her, and now she'd be doing exactly that but without the friends there to applaud her. She had barely finished that depressing train of thought before her answering machine kicked into life for the umpteenth time that week;

"Blair, it's me." Serena's voice echoed over the line, "Would you pick up the phone? I know you're-"

With a frustrated huff, Blair unplugged the device and shoved it inside the box. She hadn't spoken a single word to Serena since the wedding. Didn't plan on doing so any time soon either, even if the thought felt ludicrous to the part of her heart that still thought of Serena as her sister. She hadn't spoken to anyone, really, since she left town the day after the wedding. The day after _he_… No, she wouldn't go there (lying, deceiving son of a bitch), but she had to swallow hard to dissolve the lump in her throat as she walked down the hallway and into her living room.

She couldn't get over the fact that Chuck was the son of Bart Bass. The older Bass was quite a new name in New York. A new name, and 'new money' too. He had made his fortune in the casino business in Las Vegas, branching out into hotels and real estate before changing venue to New York a few years back. She'd even met the man on a few occasions for crying out loud. He socialized with a lot of people that were friends of her mother's. Why on Earth would Chuck make a living out of taking women on dates? It didn't make sense to Blair, and she couldn't help but feel like all of it had been a big sham on Chuck's part.

The living room was filled with boxes, awaiting the movers that would be coming in the morning. Looking around the living room, Blair found that everything was packed except for the group of photo frames on the table in the corner. The big, ornate one that housed the picture of her and Nate from their engagement party was easy to spot. Why was that picture still there? Blair strode across the room and picked up the frame, opened it and snatched the picture from its hold. About to crumble the photo into a disfigured ball she was interrupted by the door bell.

There were very few people on Earth that Blair held less likely to show up on her front step than the one she found standing there when she opened the door. "What are you doing here?" She questioned angrily, and briefly considered slamming the door shut again and pretend like nothing had happened.

"You wouldn't return my calls." Serena explained somberly, crossing her arms awkwardly across her chest.

"Maybe you should have taken the hint instead of what, flying here?" Blair scoffed. Really, what had possessed the blonde to fly across the whole country only to see her?

Serena ignored the jibe, much to Blair's dismay. "Can I come in?"

Blair didn't reply at once, trying to decide on a strategy. She hated being caught off guard like this, there had been a reason she hadn't picked up the phone any of the times Serena had called; she didn't know what to say to her.

"You have three minutes." Blair decided and walked back inside her apartment without another word; the door still open behind her. Back inside the living room she carried on with her mission to crumble the photo of her and Nate into a ball, feeling Serena's eyes follow her every move as she did.

"Are you moving?"

"Two minutes."

"B, I'm so, so sorry." Serena blurted out, and when Blair turned around to face her (ex?)friend she found that the other girl was close to tears, biting her lip to keep it from trembling.

"I should have told you, I know, but I just-"

"You just what, Serena?" Blair retorted icily, letting the frame she was holding drop to the floor with a loud clang. "Forgot? Please explain what kept you from letting me know, because I don't understand how you could keep from telling me that my fiancée was having an affair with Poppy Lifton! Did your hairstylist use too much peroxide and fry your brain?"

"It wasn't like that-"

"Then what was it like?!" Blair snapped, finally releasing some of the pent-up emotion she had been harboring for the past two weeks. "I came to see you the week before the wedding because I was worried about Nate acting weird. I _confided_ in you and you told me that everything would be okay!"

"Because I thought that it would be!" Serena cried, a sole tear running down her cheek. "Because Nate assured me that what happened between him and Poppy was nothing but a huge, drunken mistake and that he loved _you_. And you were so determined to be his wife, B, so content. I didn't want to ruin that over something Nate claimed was a stupid slip!"

"But he left me!" Blair's voice rose to a yell, and to her horror she could feel tears burning in the corners of her eyes. "And you helped me get out of my wedding dress because I was crying too hard to unzip it myself, and still didn't breathe a word about anything!"

"I know, alright!" Serena yelled back, crying openly now." I know, and I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, B. I wish I could go back and do it all differently, but I can't! I love you so much, I can't stand things being this way," Serena finished, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand before wrapping her arms around herself for comfort.

Blair walked over to the big floor-to-ceiling windows and looked out, wiping her own tears away furiously. Get yourself together, you're a Waldorf. A Waldorf that misses her best friend, a petulant voice added at the back of her mind. She felt exhausted, drained. She did miss her best friend, but still;

"I can't pretend like this never happened." She whispered against the glass. It was the truth. She missed her friend more than she ever had thought possible, desperately wished that she could confide in the blonde, tell Serena everything about all that had been going on lately. Wanted to bitch about _him _being the mother-chucker that he was, gossip about mutual acquaintances and celebrate her promotion with a crazy night out. She wanted her best friend back.

"I completely understand-" Serena began, defeat penetrating every syllable.

"But I miss you too."

Serena opened her mouth, prepared to voice an argument, but closed it again when she realized what Blair was saying.

"I'm moving back to New York," She explained, nodding in direction of the boxes. "Maybe we could have lunch some day, if you want to."

A bright smile spread across Serena's face. "I'd like that."

XOXOXOXO

_Chuck walked down the hallway of Bass Industries' head quarter with a confident swagger that did nothing to betray the tension brewing beneath his collected facade. Turning the last corner he found his father's secretary Renée behind her desk. She was working with something on her computer but looked up as Chuck came walking._

"_Is he in?" Chuck inquired even though he had called the secretary earlier and made the appointment. He'd learned early on that having an audience with his father was not a set fixture. Being un-rescheduable in the world of Bart Bass meant that you had to at least make the man's top ten list. Being the only son and heir had never quite made that cut._

"_Mrs. Ross dropped by to discuss tomorrow's board meeting," the secretary replied with a polite smile. "Said it wouldn't take long."_

_Chuck let out a contemptuous snort, clenching and unclenching his hand inside the pocket of his charcoal slacks (they went really well with the pink shirt and the non-so-very-subtle pattern of the grey cardigan.) to keep from fidgeting visibly. Resisting the urge to pace nervously back and forth on the plush carpet covering the floors, Chuck was relieved when the door to Bart's office opened._

"_Charles," Miranda came walking out, smiling warmly at the sight of him. "Am I the reason she's keeping you waiting?" She continued, and sent the secretary a disapproving frown that caused the girl to shift uncomfortably in her chair._

"_One can never wait too long for a beautiful lady." Chuck drawled amicably as he took her hand in his and kissed it. _

_Miranda laughed. That charming, handsome boy with the devilish smirk never failed to brighten her mood. Miranda had known the Basses for a long time, long before Chuck was born. Misty's death had been a tragedy and her heart still ached whenever she thought about it. But at least Misty had left the world something in return for her absence, Chuck. _

_Some people might say that Bart Bass didn't "do" friendship, but Miranda Ross knew better than most that it wasn't true. She considered Bart a close friend, as well as a business associate, and had been his confidant for many, many years. She had also, on more than one occasion, been the one to put a band-aid on a scraped knee during the company's family events when Bart had been too…busy to do it himself. For the past few years she'd watched with growing trepidation how the two Bass men drifted even further apart as Chuck grew older and the longing for fatherly approval and attention blended together with resentment and rebellious behaviour. She had tried, on several occasions, to discuss the matter with her friend but the subject was a no-flight zone when it came to the older Bass._

"_You flatter me," Miranda winked, knowing what would come next._

"_It's not flattery if it's the truth," Chuck replied smoothly, and then turned to the secretary. "May I?" He asked, voice oozing with sarcasm. He was rewarded with a timid nod._

"_He worries about you, you know." Miranda told him quietly, "I know he's hard on you sometimes-"_

"_Giving someone a hard time requires that you actually care." The ghost of something she was rarely able to detect flickered in his eyes._

"_Charles," Miranda began, and reached out to place a comforting hand on his arm. Wrong decision, she realized immediately as Chuck backed away from her with a frown on his face. You're not my mother, read the look in his eyes. That too was something that had come hand in hand with the attitude towards Bart. That cold, distant behaviour she found so distant from the little boy she had known. _

"_I should go. Can't keep the mighty Bart Bass waiting."_

_Miranda smiled sadly back at him. Chuck turned around without another word and walked through the door of his father's office. "Father," he greeted the man behind the desk as he shut the oak door behind him. Bart didn't immediately acknowledge him and instead finished browsing through the document in his hand. Chuck remained standing, his fist still clenching and unclenching in quick succession inside his pocket. Finally, Bart looked up from his papers, his steely gaze landing on his son._

"_Sit down," Bart motioned for him to sit in the chair opposite the big, wooden desk. Chuck did as he was told without a word, several images of headmasters' offices flashing before his eyes as he did._

"_Is there a specific reason you called this delightful heart to heart?" Chuck drawled sarcastically, and leaned back in the chair in a, what he hoped, unaffected manner._

_Bart put his papers aside and then turned his attention to Chuck. "I had my lawyers contact Berkeley." His father said, and Chuck's heart dropped in his chest. Fuck. "They will under no circumstance allow you back," Bart continued, "The dean was perfectly clear on their policy when it comes to illegal substances." Alright, maybe smoking hash on school grounds hadn't been the wisest decision he'd ever made, but so fucking what? _

"_I presume you offered them a new library." Chuck replied offhandedly, crossing his legs at the ankles. Change the subject, change the subject, change the subject._

"_I don't know why I expected more from you this time," Bart chastised, lowering his voice to a pitch that Chuck knew well, and he braced himself for what was undoubtedly to come. "Letting people down seems to be your forte."_

_Somehow it never helped to brace oneself for that kind of thing. "I learned from the best." Chuck retorted, and watched as Bart's eyes darkened threateningly._

"_Enough. I've shown more than enough patience with your attitudes and careless behaviour. You're too old for the kind of childish behaviour that you display. It's time for you to grow up and -"_

"_And what?" Chuck bit back, a bitter taste burning at the back of his throat. "Settle into the fold? Do what __**you**__ want me to do?"_

"_Get your life together and man up to the responsibilities that are coming to you." Bart roared, his hand landing on the desk with a loud thud. "Show some sense of responsibility and respect. The drinking and the womanizing and the page three scandals will come to an end, I have a reputation to uphold."_

_Chuck scoffed. This was all about the upcoming anniversary of Bass Industries, he should have realized. Leave it to Bart Bass to worry about his own reputation when his son was the one who had been caught enjoying his 'soft high' on campus._

"_You will do as you're told, Charles. There will be no more wasting my money on champagne and cheap women."_

"_Scotch," Chuck deadpanned._

"_Pardon?"_

"_I prefer scotch." _

"_Don't be smart with me," Bart growled. "We've been in contact with Wharton. They will be expecting you later this week."_

_Chuck froze. What would it take for his father to realize that business school was the last thing he wanted to suffer through?_

"_No."_

"_No?" Bart's expression was one of barely contained fury._

"_No, I won't go." Chuck repeated even though it felt like ice was spreading in his veins. "What about Victrola?" He continued, mentioning the sketches and business proposal he had put together for his father last week, fully aware that he was fighting a losing battle. But Victrola would be the perfect project for Bass Industries; it would up the company's social reputation and fitted perfectly with the latest entertainment profile. Not to mention that the place itself would look fucking awesome the way he pictured it; dark interior, lots of velvet and chandeliers. Very 20's speakeasy. Total franchise potential._

"_You will not make a living out of mindless doodling," Bart scoffed, "I have real architects for that. You will go to Wharton and get a business degree, end of discussion. Things don't come for free simply because you're my son, I won't allow it." _

"_Why?" Chuck got up from his seat. What he meant with his question he wasn't sure , but he was so fucking tired of never getting anything right. Never being good enough. "If the only way to impress you is if I start with nothing, then why don't you just take it all away?!" _

"_Lower your voice," Bart demanded, he too getting up from his seat, "Maybe I should." the sincerity in his eyes had Chuck holding his breath. "Then maybe you'd realize how it's impossible to lead a life consisting of partying and womanizing without my money there to back you up. You wouldn't last a week without my money."_

_The two men glared at each other in heavy silence for what felt like hours. Then, suddenly, something deep inside of Chuck snapped. Fuck this. Fuck never being good enough, never worthy of anything but scorn. "Watch me." _

_Bart raised a questioning eyebrow. "Pardon?" _

"_I said; fucking watch me," Chuck sneered, and then stormed out of the office. The sound of the door slamming shut behind him echoing in his chest long after he had left the building._

XOXOXOXO

Now what? Chuck hadn't really thought his decision through when he told Bart to 'watch him' and stormed out of the man's office. The burning anger had faded at about the same time as he closed his last suitcase.

Now the proof he needed to show everyone (Bart) that they (he) had been wrong was in his hand, and Chuck had no fucking clue what to do. He stared at the fancy document with a mixture of emotions, his gaze trailing the elegant script that stated that Charles Bartholomew Bass was now a man with a college diploma. It almost freaked him out a little. 'Chuck Bass' and 'college graduate' in the same sentence? Five years ago he would have told anyone brave enough to voice such a thought to lay off the drugs. Four years of classes and internships and - ehm - 'working the night-shift' later, Chuck wasn't sure what to say.

He'd worked his last 'shift' last night, leaving the trade as soon as he found out that he'd passed his finals. It was a damn lucky thing that he did pass. Being in his line of work came with some demands on one's physical…abilities and that, Chuck cringed at the thought, had been a little tricky lately. Let's just say that it had been a while since any of Chuck's clients had had a very fulfilling 'happy ending'.

He blamed _her_. She hired him, flew him to New York, and pranced around in her slinky dresses and stockings, had sex with him and then fucking fired him. And most importantly; she ruined him. _Literally_.

She's the reason he was out of work. So what if he had planned on quitting anyway, that's beside the point. He had handed some of his clients over to this other guy he'd met while working at a party a while back. Marcus. The guy was about as inviting as a suit of armour but he had a British accent that made all the clients go crazy when they spoke to him for the first time; immediately imagining all the crazy stories they could make up about dating a British Lord. However, Marcus' clients soon found out that even though he had certain redeeming qualities, he left much to be desired in the stamina department.

Not that he had to think about dates and clients any longer. She took care of that. Yes, that's the only reason he couldn't stop thinking about her, because she ruined him. It's not like he missed her. He's Chuck Bass, he doesn't do feelings – he does women. Lots of women. Well, until she came along and ruined that. Bitch.

Chuck looked down on the paper in his hand again. He realized that he needed to come up with some kind of game plan soon, but for now – tonight – he would go out, get drunk and get Blair Waldorf out of his system.

XOXO

"Fucking bitch." Chuck grumbled under his breath as he made his way home a few hours, and more than a few drinks, later. She was still on his mind. No matter how many ridiculously sexy (and willing) women had thrown themselves at him she had stayed at the back of his mind, taunting him and licking those luscious lips of hers like the vixen she was. She had poisoned him.

Chuck came to an abrupt halt as the last thought floated by in his swirling mind. That was it. How was it that he'd never thought of _that_ solution before? It all made sense now. There must be some kind of…blockage. Chuck realized in growing satisfaction that he was less than a block away from where he'd met her for the first time a few weeks ago. Less than a block (and one murderous hill) away from her house. All he had to do was to go over there and seduce her. Perfect plan. Spotless. One more night with her would be all he needed to 'clear the pipes' so to speak. Chuck grinned wickedly. She had no idea what she was in for. Operation; Sexual DrainO had begun.

Ten minutes later Chuck was out of breath, and not even half way up that goddamn hill. It was times like this that he really, really missed the limo and driver he'd had unlimited access to in New York all those years ago. When his phone started ringing from the inner pocket of his suit jacket, he cursed under his breath and dug it out from his pocket in jerky movements.

"What?" He growled into the receiver, almost tripping over his own feet as he did.

"Charles Bass?" The female voice at the other end of the line inquired.

"This is he."

And then, just like that, Chuck's world came to a screeching halt.

XOXO

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_

_I don't know what it is with me and these cliffies, I'm horrible._

_Review?! :)_

_Camilla_


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N** Three words; serious plot crisis_

_Thank you so very much to everyone who has reviewed, put this/me on alert/favorite. You make me blush!_

_Thank you also to my lovely friend Noirreigne for beta-ing this chapter!_

* * *

The scotch felt like liquid fire as it slid down his throat but failed to completely burn away the bitter taste of memories and regrets that Chuck preferred not to dwell on. Resolute, he reached out for the bottle on the messy table in front of him with unsteady hands and refilled his glass to the rim. All he needed was one more drink. One more drink and he'd pass out and then maybe when he woke up again it would all be different.

XOXO

There was a chill to the air that had Blair pulling her coat tighter around her where she stood. Summer was apparently leaving New York early, and quickly too. "Blair!" Serena came walking towards her with a big smile on her face, her blonde hair flying in the wind. "Am I late? Did I keep you waiting? I'm sorr-"

"I was early." Blair interrupted her before she could fire away a whole tirade of apologies. She had indeed been early to her meeting with Serena, still used to keeping busy in order to distract herself from unwelcomed thoughts regarding a certain good-for-nothing-Basshole that definitely didn't lessen in quantity from being back in town. A moment of tense silence ensued between the girls when neither of them seemed to know how to appropriately greet the other before they settled on a somewhat awkward hug.

They started walking; heading down a path in Central Park that had always been one of their favorite walks when they were younger and wanted to talk about something no one else should get the opportunity to eavesdrop on. The path ended at a big pond that Blair had always loved. She could still remember going there every Sunday as a child – either with her father or Dorota - to feed the ducks swimming merrily in the murky water.

"So, are you settling in alright?" Serena asked her after a minute's silence that was more comfortable than could have been expected.

"I've only been here for three nights so far," Blair smiled, surprising both Serena and herself with her teasing tone, "but yes."

"When are you moving into your own place?"

"Next week." Blair couldn't wait to move out of her mother's apartment. Their relationship was definitely one made for long distance and only the occasional lunch or telephone conversation.

"Is Chuck coming to visit you then?"

The sharp, stabbing feeling was instant and Blair unconsciously crossed her arms over her chest. "No."

"No?" Serena's tone was one of apparent confusion, "but what about-"

"Just drop it, Serena." Blair retorted stiffly. Normally the warning would have been enough to quiet the blonde, but normal protocol seemed to be forgone and she watched Serena's expression change from confusion to concern.

"What happened? Did you guys break up?"

"We weren't really that serious to begin with." Blair replied with an evasive shrug, hoping and praying that her answer would bring forth a change of subject because saying that felt like the biggest lie she had told in a long time. It wasn't supposed to feel that way, she wasn't supposed to…never mind.

"But…Blair, you were so obviously in love with him, what happened?" Serena prodded gently.

In love with Chuck? No. Maybe, a little. Yes. Yesyesyes.

All color drained from Blair's face. Pale as a sheet she stumbled over to a nearby bench and sat down. Horrified, Serena followed and sat down next to her, throwing a comforting arm around the brunette's shoulder. Blair temporarily abandoned the still not forgotten grudge and rested her head against the blonde's shoulder; taking whatever comfort she could get while she blinked furiously against the tears. She hadn't even dared admitting it to herself but shoved it away deep at the back of her conscience and refused to acknowledge it as the truth. But hearing Serena say it out loud was like giving the feelings a shot of adrenaline that helped them break free and resurface full force.

"B, talk to me."

Blair let out a humorless laugh, swiping away the few tears that spilled over as she did. "A part of me thought that if I didn't say it out loud, then it wouldn't be true." She choked out, clenching her teeth together and using all her power to suppress the inappropriate, public breakdown.

"But why is that such a bad thing?" Serena asked soothingly, "Chuck's crazy about you, I could tell."

"He lied to me, like everyone else." Blair replied and straightened in her seat, the thinly veiled insult not lost on her friend who had the decency to look guilty and apologetic all at the same time. "It was all a game to him." She continued, and then reluctantly told Serena about the run-in with Miranda and Chuck being the son of Bart Bass. When she did Serena's eyes widened almost comically.

"I knew it!" The blonde exclaimed triumphantly, all but PUMPING a fist IN the air, but lowered her voice when Blair shot her a murderous glare. "I _knew_ it," she repeated, less overly enthusiastic, "he did go to Rawley!"

Another lie. Blair winced on the inside and laced her fingers together in her lap. Even though she had noticed, and not minded at all, at the time he'd told it, the notion still stung.

"He got kicked out a few weeks after I transferred," Serena mused, twirling a golden curl around her finger absentmindedly. "That must be why I couldn't place him even when he looked so familiar, he wasn't really around for long after I got there."

Blair - for some masochistic reason she couldn't guess the origin of - couldn't help but ask; "Why did he get kicked out?"

Serena frowned, trying to remember the reason, and then her face lit up. "He stole the key to the school's swimming pool and threw this huge pool party. _Everyone_ was there." She chuckled, but then her expression turned serious again. "But then some guy from my math class almost drowned and we had to call the ambulance. Chuck ended up taking the fall for everyone and got expelled." She looked oddly offended by the math-class-guy's nerve to almost die in the middle of a party.

Blair absorbed the news in silence. It felt strange thinking about her fifteen year-old, party loving best friend hanging out with an equally young Chuck. The sting of jealousy was sharp, and highly unwelcomed.

Suddenly Serena's jaw dropped in alarm. "Oh my God," She breathed, clasping one hand over her mouth and grabbing a hold of Blair's arm with the other, her finger nails digging into Blair's light summer coat. Her eyes were wide, blue pools of disbelief as she looked over to Blair. "_Bart Bass_."

"Yes, Serena. Bart Bass. Big Bad Bart. Rub it in a little more, why don't you?" Blair scoffed, but faltered when Serena didn't react the way she had predicted and apologized.

"Did you read the paper yesterday?"

Blair's only response was to lift a perfectly arched brow. She was no half-wit but reading the newspaper wasn't exactly her favourite pastime. Serena was on her feet in a hurry, tugging at Blair's arm impatiently.

"Would you give the Brooklyn manners a rest?" Blair huffed, but got to her feet as well. When Serena did nothing but drag her along at a hurried pace, still not saying anything, Blair lost what little patience she'd had with the blonde's antics. "Would you tell me what's going on instead of continuing what I suspect is an attempt to dislocate my shoulder?"

Serena shook her head in refusal, and relentlessly dragged her friend in the direction of a newspaper stand. Once they got there she pointed to the posters on the booth's wall.

"Serena! This is ridiculous, would you-" Blair huffed, but the rest of her rant died in her throat when her eyes fell on the paper in front of her.

_**CEO STILL IN CRITICAL CONDITION**_

"_Bass Industries' CEO and founder Bart Bass is still in critical condition due to the trauma he suffered two days ago when he was seriously injured as the limousine in which he travelled was hit by a truck in the corner of East 49__th__ street and Madison Avenue. Both drivers escaped the crash without serious injury; the truck driver is now facing charges for driving under the influence. The business tycoon was taken to Mount Sinai Medical Centre where he was immediately rushed into surgery. Bass Industries has released a statement claiming that their CEO is in a 'very critical condition and depending on life support and has yet to regain consciousness.'"_

Blair froze, staring at the big, dark letters in shocked silence. "Chuck." The tone of her voice betrayed everything that she had refused to admit out loud before. Serena's hand was warm and reassuring as it closed around Blair's own and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Maybe you should call him, B."

XOXO

Chuck slammed the door shut with such force it nearly jumped off its hinges and immediately regretted his actions when the sound left him cradling his head in his hands and gritting his teeth while he waited for the pain to ease off. "Fucking bitch." He growled as he slowly made his way back to the couch in the middle of the suit's living room. If he was referring to the voluptuous blonde he had just shoved out the door when she failed to provoke the desired reaction from his nowadays uncooperative anatomy, or the brunette that haunted his mind (and aforementioned parts of his anatomy too), he wasn't sure.

The bottle on the table was empty. Chuck glared at it for a second or two before making his way over to the mini bar on unsteady feet. He somehow got the door open and peered inside. Gin, vodka and white rum. No scotch. With the feeling of having the whole world against him, Chuck settled with the vodka. What kind of hotel doesn't stack the mini-bars with scotch? The owners should-

He froze with his hand hovering over the bottles. He'd almost forgot. He supposed the mini bar's supply would be his responsibility now, or soon anyway. At least then there would always be scotch. Chuckling grimly he unscrewed the cap of the vodka and took a swig straight from the bottle.

XOXO

Blair cursed in a manner very unusual for her as the cap of the lip gloss fell from her trembling hand. Why couldn't he simply have picked up the phone when she'd actually tried calling him? It didn't matter how many times she told herself that not only was it completely undignified to be this nervous; it was ridiculous too, she still couldn't rid herself of the anxious fluttering in her stomach. With one final look in the elevator's mirror, she stepped out of the small compartment the second the doors slid open on the 18th floor of the New York Palace Hotel. Convincing the man at reception to tell her the room number had required more sweet-talk and batting of eyelashes than she had ever expected and had done little to lift her spirits. Now that she did know the room number however; the room was easy to find.

She carefully smoothed out the invisible wrinkles on her grey, tweed skirt and tugged at the soft chiffon of her blouse, the printed bows suddenly feeling much too cheerful for the occasion. One last, deep breath later she knocked on the door. The sound echoed in the empty hallway, and Blair found herself holding her breath as she waited for some kind of reaction. Nothing happened. Furrowing her brow she knocked again. She knew he was in there; the obnoxious man at the front desk had told her as much. She listened closely, and this time a muffled sound could be heard from inside the suite, and then the door swung open.

Unfocused eyes met hers. Blair caught the flicker of something that made her breath hitch before Chuck blinked and broke the silence. "Decide to go slumming with the hired help, movie star?"

Blair balked at the unmasked venom in his voice, the empty look in his eyes sending chills down her spine. She might have deserved the harsh opening words after her own final ones from last time, but the lack of animation in Chuck's character scared her.

"You're drunk." She stated, because there was no doubt that he was in fact completely wasted, and walked past him and into the suite. The room was a complete mess. Clothes were scattered all over the floor and there were bottles and glasses everywhere, the curtains were drawn and the only light in there came from the television that was on mute in a corner. The smell of alcohol was heavy in the stale air and Blair wrinkled her nose.

"And _you're_ unwelcome. Why are you here, exactly?"

"This place is a mess." Blair chose to ignore his question altogether, stating the obvious. Ignoring the dry laugh from him she walked over to a dresser close to the door where she began to gather the empty glasses. She could do this. She just needed to view this as an ordinary scheme, take it step by step. Fix this place, fix Chuck. No need to dwell on why she felt the need to do it, or on the cold stare she could feel burning a hole in her skull at that very moment.

"Don't see how that is any of your business." Chuck sneered, still standing right inside the door. "But you seem to enjoy passing judgement so I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"Chuck-" Blair turned around to face him with an frustrated look on her face. "I shouldn't have-"

"Get out." Chuck deadpanned with an unsteady, swivelling motion in the direction of the still open door.

Blair looked at him in silence for a moment, trying to come up with a game plan. She needed to do something to penetrate that thick veneer of 'fuck the world' that he seemed so dead-set on hiding behind. When she couldn't come up with anything good enough quickly enough, she settled for buying herself some more time; "No."

"It wasn't a suggestion." Chuck pointed out in ice-cold graveness. "Get. Out."

"I'm not going anywhere." Blair retorted. Stubborn, infuriating man. With an annoyed glare in his direction she marched up to the door and closed it. Before she could turn around, or walk away, Chuck was right behind her. Blair froze as his arms came up on each side of her, efficiently trapping her between his chest and the wall.

"Then I suggest you make yourself…useful." Chuck murmured against her hair, breathing in the scent of her and almost groaning at the instant stirring in his groin. If he couldn't get her and those goddamn accusing eyes of hers to leave him the fuck alone so he could slip back into his semi-unconscious daze, then he'd simply have to find other ways to distract himself. Other, more satisfying ways.

Blair could barely suppress the shiver that ran down her spine when Chuck's lips brushed against her nape. He was so close she found it hard to breathe. She could feel the heat evaporating from his body, and the smooth caress of his breath against her skin. When Chuck began nipping and licking a path down her neck and over to her ear, at the same time as his hand slid up her waist, Blair couldn't stop the blissful sigh that escaped her lips. Her head tilted to the side on its own volition, giving Chuck easy access to her blushing skin. Her treacherous body reacted instantly to his presence, his touch and wetness pooled between her thighs. She knew it was all kinds of wrong, that she should make him stop, but the sensations he evoked in her left Blair's mind a hopeless mess not unlike the untidy suite. Battle still not a completely lost cause; Blair opened her mouth to voice an objection. "Chuck, I-" Her protest was cut short when Chuck's mouth found her earlobe and the rest of her words disappeared in a moan. On trembling knees, Blair turned around and threw her arms around his neck to pull him closer.

Their lips met and Chuck wasted no time deepening the kiss, plunging his tongue into her mouth. Blair's hands came up to fist in his hair and she ground herself against him - her body thrumming in anticipation. Chuck pulled away from the kiss to place a line of kisses along her jaw line, trailing the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue before closing his lips around the other earlobe. He moved against her, pushed closer, and Blair whimpered at the glorious friction that threatened to liquefy her spine. She was mere seconds from surrendering and admitting defeat when Chuck spoke huskily against her neck; "Have sex with me."

"What?" Blair mumbled confusedly even though she understood the question perfectly well and they had undoubtedly been heading in that very direction, only it was too hard to focus on anything but him. The taste and touch and feeling of him and only him.

"Just once, it's all I need." Chuck continued, his hand sliding up her thigh to cup her butt and simultaneously pull her closer to his achingly hard erection.

It would have been so very easy for Blair to ignore her conscious and allow herself that 'once' that Chuck was promising her, backing his promise up with persuasive nips along her collarbone, but the sound of Chuck's voice had brought her back to reality with an ungraceful crash. She could suddenly smell the alcohol on his breath and it reminded her of why she was there and what was going on.

"No!" Blair blurted out, and pushed him away with shaking arms. Deftly ignoring her body's disappointed whine at the loss of contact. Caught by surprise Chuck stumbled backwards and shot her a murderous glare once he regained his balance.

"Well if you don't plan on 'filling your purpose' and 'keeping your mouth shut'-" he snarled in a tribute to her words during their last conversation and walked further into the room, heading for the couch, "then get the hell out of my room."

"Are you about done?" Blair snapped, pulling at her blouse in an attempt to regain some of her modesty, and stalked after him. "Would you-"

"I don't need your help-" Chuck whirled back around to face her in barely contained fury. "Stop trying to play the _wife_!" He growled, clenching his hand into a fist so tight his knuckles were turning white.

The words cut deep but Blair's response was immediate and equally biting. "Stop trying to play the _victim_." She hissed, throwing her arm out in exasperation. "You're not the one unconscious in a hospital bed! What are you doing locked up in here? Your father-"

"Don't. Even. Go there." Chuck's voice was as cold and cutting as a silver dagger, the anger he had barely been able to control before now flaring in his eyes.

"_You_ 'go there'," Blair replied, and they both understood to where she was referring. "Instead of sitting in here feeling sorry for yourself. It's not a good look on you." With a last withering glare in Chuck's direction she left the suite, slamming the door shut behind her as she did.

XOXO

The sound of the door closing with a loud bang behind her was like a pin to a balloon. Blair heaved a deep sigh, feeling her shoulders slump in defeat. Scarily numb she walked over to the elevator and once inside rested her forehead against the wooden wall. That had not gone according to plan. Not at all. All she had wanted to do was just…be there. And even though he had lied and said all those horrible things to her, she still only wanted him to be okay. She couldn't even imagine the terror of knowing your father was in a coma and might never wake up, tears prickled in her eyes at the mere thought of her own father in such a serious condition. Not that Chuck had really seemed that worried, or upset. A shiver ran down her spine at the memory of his empty stare, but the worry was soon replaced with anger. Motherchucker. Who did he think he was?

Her heels echoed against the marble floors as she strode through the lobby with her head held up high - ignoring the confused look she got from the man at the reception who probably wondered why her stay had been so short, given how long she'd worked on convincing him to tell her the room number in the first place.

Lost in thought Blair almost missed the voice calling out for her, and it wasn't until the person called out again that she noticed and turned her head in direction of the unfamiliar voice.

"Blair," Miranda Ross smiled warmly at her as she came walking, looking like the epitome of a successful business woman in a blue dress suit and stylish pumps. "I thought it was you."

"Mrs Ross."

"Call me Miranda," the older woman replied easily, re-arranging her hold of her Chanel bag, her expression turning grave. "Did you stop by to see Charles? I got back from London only a few hours ago and haven't been able to get a hold of him yet; I had to stop by the hospital first."

Blair only noticed then how weary the older woman looked today compared to the last time they met at the wedding. "How is Mr. Bass?" She asked, filled with compassion for the friendly woman who looked so worried.

"No change." Miranda replied dejectedly, pressing her lips together, "And Charles?" Blair's face fell at the mention of Chuck's name, and Miranda noticed immediately. "That good, huh?" She asked dryly, her brow furrowing.

"I-" Blair began but stopped abruptly when, to her horror, tears began to fill her eyes and she covered her mouth with a trembling hand. "He doesn't want my help." She whispered against the palm of her hand. He doesn't want me, echoed silently in her mind.

The hand that came down on her shoulder was calm and silently comforting. "I have known both Bart and Charles for a long time," Miranda told her with a sad smile playing on her lips, "No matter how reluctant Charles might be to admit it, he takes after his father in many ways and not all of those ways are good. Not trusting people easily is one character trait that Bart has unfortunately passed on to his son." The hand left her shoulder after a last reassuring squeeze. "Give him some time, he'll come around." And then she added with a wink in her tired, blue eyes, "He'd be a fool not to."

XOXO

Blair shivered from cold in the elevator ride up to the Waldorf apartment. She had been in Central Park for what felt like hours, spending more than a fair share of that time on a bench once she reached her favourite spot in front of the duck pond. Her anger was like a wild animal in her gut, scratching and gnawing on her insides. The anger mixed with the hurt and the unusually cold weather left her drained and it was with heavy steps that she made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. She would take a hot shower and go straight to bed. Breakfast at Tiffany's had never failed to make her feel at least a little better in the past, and she could really use the familiarity of the movie she had watched a million times right then.

"Ms. Blair?" Dorota came walking down the hallway with an urgent look on her face. "There you are. You have visitor."

"What?" Blair inhaled sharply, she had no desire what so ever to talk to anyone let alone entertain a guest, whoever it might be. "Who?"

"Mr. Chuck," Dorota replied, a nervous edge to her heavily accented voice, "I told him wait in bedroom."

"You _what_?" Blair hissed quietly, sending an anxious look in direction of her bedroom door. "I don't want to see him, get him out of there Dorota!"

The maid swallowed before she spoke up again. "Ms. Blair, you go talk to Mr. Chuck." She repeated sternly in a manner extremely unusual for her, and then quickly disappeared down the stairs before Blair could say anything else.

Blair watched her leave in a whirlwind of emotion. She summoned all the energy she had left to fight with by taking a deep breath and then marched down the hall and into her bedroom. She spotted Chuck immediately, sitting with his back against her on _her_ bed. Blair's blood boiled at the sight of him. He had no right. "What do you think you're doing here?" She demanded coldly, hating the tiny portion of insecurity that seeped into her voice at the sight of him.

When Chuck turned to look at her, something inside of Blair snapped and nearly stopped her heart's furious beating in her chest. Gone was the anger and the contempt that had inhabited his eyes and posture earlier. Left was nothing but dejection. All the worry and the sadness that she had expected to find earlier that day was now perfectly, heart-breakingly evident in his eyes. Seconds passed with neither of them saying anything, Blair's heart came back to life with a flutter and it jolted her into movement just as Chuck made a move as to get off the bed. She quickly threw herself onto the bed next to him, her arms coming up around him and her cheek resting against his. Chuck leaned in to the touch instinctively, releasing a deep, shuddering breath as his hand came up to grip her arm.

Blair swallowed against the lump forming in her throat, her mind blank of things to say. Not a single word of comfort making its presence known in her reeling mind. She hugged him closer instead, pouring everything she couldn't say into that hug and hoping he would understand. She would have expected tears, God knows she would have been a sobbing mess in his place, but Chuck didn't cry. Instead he remained perfectly still, the way he clung to her arm like a drowning man clings to a life raft the only evidence of distress.

In hindsight, Blair would never be able to say how long they spent sitting like that, close together on her bed, but eventually she loosened her grip around Chuck a little and nudged him carefully in the side to convince him to lay down. He resisted at first, but eventually caved and fell back atop her coverlet. Never losing body contact completely Blair followed him and arranged her body so that they were facing each other, so close she could feel his breath on her skin.

Chuck kept his eyes firmly closed, frowning slightly. When Blair ran her fingers through his dishevelled hair he flinched, and recoiled from her touch but she wouldn't let the stand-offish reaction scare her away. Instead she took up the pastime she had indulged in that morning in her bed weeks ago; running her fingers over the planes and angles of his face, and that until he seemed to relax underneath her finger's dancing caress. The next time she reached out to run her fingers through his hair he didn't flinch. Pleased with the outcome, Blair scooted closer and smiled into the darkness as Chuck's arm came around her waist and he buried his face in the crock of her neck.

Despite of the circumstances, Blair felt more at ease than she had in weeks. The silence and the warmth of Chuck's body next to her created a comforting cocoon and she began to drift off when Chuck's voice suddenly brought her back to full consciousness.

"I don't want this." He whispered hoarsely, and when Blair's eyes shot open in alarm she found that he had pulled back but still wasn't looking at her. His eyelashes were still casting dark, spidery shadows against his skin. He didn't want what? Didn't want her there? Fear, ice-cold and crushing, washed over her but warmed up and disappeared as he continued;

"I don't-" He stopped, and the frown that had returned to his forehead deepened as he sought for the right words and Blair moved even closer, watching him intently. "I don't want him to die."

The anguished whisper was barely audible, but when Chuck's eyes opened and met hers they were filled with forceful determination - and Blair could see the muscles in his jaw work as he swallowed against the sorrow his voice had betrayed.

"I know," she murmured soothingly and leaned in to plant an unusually chaste kiss on his forehead. "I know you don't. It'll be okay, he'll be fine," she mumbled against his skin, even though she knew she might be stretching the truth, and pressed her lips against his brow again. When Chuck moved and his hand came around her neck to pull her closer – lips meeting lips – the rush of heat through Blair's system was instant.

Pain and worry transforming into desperate, aching need he kissed her with urgency, sliding his hand into her soft curls. Blair reciprocated with vigour, wrapping her limbs around him like ivy to a brick wall. They moved quickly, never breaking off the kiss, tearing at hindering layers of clothing in an anxious desire to feel skin against skin. Straddling his hips, Blair tore impatiently at the buttons of his button down shirt, relishing at the sound he made as she moved against him.

Chuck slid her blouse down her shoulders and would in any other setting have laughed at their joint struggle when the cuffs got caught around her slender wrists. But now; skin crawling with the need to get mind-numbingly close he somehow got her out of the disobliging piece of clothing, and pulled her down for another searing kiss.

Blair pulled back and eager not to lose contact Chuck sat up with her, supported by her firm grip around the edges of his shirt, and then licked the valley between her breasts as she got him out of his shirt. Temporarily satisfied with the amount of newly exposed skin, they were back to kissing and exploring hands before that all-consuming, impatient _notenoughneedmorenow_ took over once again. They made quick work out of the rest of their clothing, sending disregarded garments flying through the dimly lit bedroom.

A groan rumbled at the back of Chuck's throat as Blair curled her fingers around him, slowly stroking up and down, but then he quickly evened the playfield by flipping her onto her back and settling between her legs. She was ready and welcoming as he pushed inside of her hot, wet core. Unable to wait another second. Wrapping her legs around him Blair arched against him and whimpered as his thumb brushed over a sensitive nipple. Chuck began moving in a slow pace, eliciting a delectable sound from Blair with each _slowharddeep_ thrust. Her fingernails were digging into his back, leaving crescent shaped marks in his skin, and Chuck welcomed the minor pain.

There was something different in the air and they could both feel it. Something more than overwhelming, indisputable tension had nestled its way in between them. Something that made Chuck's already strained breath hitch when he looked at her. He ignored it, squeezing his eyes shut to keep it out- focusing on the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach and ripping around his spine - but then, for reasons unknown to him, he opened his eyes again and looked at her. Eyes glazed over with pleasure locked on his, but there was something else hiding in their dark depths. Slowly Blair reached out to cup his cheek, offering him a slow, lazy smile. Holding on to his last ounce of restraint Chuck leaned into the touch, and when Blair's smile turned devilish and she tightened her muscles around him, he got lost in white heat and brown eyes.

XOXO

Chuck woke up with a start not knowing where he was at first, but then became aware of the warm body next to his and the sound of Blair's soft breathing, and instinctively pulled her closer to his chest. Not more than seconds after that did he remember the rest. As soon as comprehension hit him, Chuck froze. He stole a glance of the sleeping brunette and cringed at the instant and exhilarated fluttering in his stomach that not even a dead man could have failed to notice. No longer able to pretend he was doing his job (even when he'd known with perfect clarity that it hadn't felt like a job to him since that goddamn picnic in Central Park) the unfamiliar feeling was piercing. Who the hell did he think he was? He was all wrong for her. Tainted. Not to mention about to become a fucking orphan. The pain shot through him like a lightning through a dark sky as he remembered the reason he'd come there in the first place. _Bart_.

Panic began to simmer, setting every nerve end in his body on fire. Wrong, everything was all wrong. With movements slow and deliberate – a stark contrast to the adrenaline in his system – Chuck made his way off the bed in the dark of the bedroom. He tip-toed around the room and got dressed as quiet as humanly possible. When Blair sighed and shifted in bed Chuck held his breath, hands freezing mid-movement. She didn't wake up, and Chuck breathed an inwardly sigh of relief as he buckled up his belt and slid the end through the loop of his pants. His skull was pounding like a jackhammer and when he turned his head in search of his shoes the ache got worse. Barely able to stifle a pained groan, Chuck brought a hand up to rub his temples, feeling like he wouldn't have been surprised if the action had actually peeled the skin of his bones.

His shoes were on the floor by the side of the bed where Blair was still sleeping soundly. He walked up to them in apprehension, eyes fastened on the sleeping brunette. She shivered in her sleep, apparently cold now that he was no longer beside her, and Chuck carefully pulled the covers up over her naked back with a silent 'I'm sorry'. There was a hint of a smile playing on her lips, and he found himself reaching out to trace the outline of her bottom lip before he could stop himself. Suddenly realizing what he had been about to do, he stopped and his arm fell motionless to his side, fingers curling against the palm. You don't want to wake her up. You're leaving. You're not good enough. She deserves much better.

XOXO

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_Thanks for reading!_

_Please review, the plot crisis is still going strong._

_What do you guys think of the twist?_

_Camilla_


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N** Hi guys..uhm..remember me?! The horrible fanfic writer that sucks at regular updates?! I'm so sorry this took so freaking long :( My muse went AWOL, and when I started thinking about not finishing this, I had to take a break and solve all my plot related problems. Aaaaanyway, enough apologetic ranting from me, let's get on with it. _

_Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews and thoughs, I really appreciate them!_

_A million **thank you's** to Robin for beta-ing this for me, and for telling me to stop referring to this chapter as "my horrid BP chapter" and giving it protective hugs... ;) _

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Blair reached out for him before she was fully awake as if her body subconsciously expected him to be there beside her like he'd been when she fell asleep hours earlier. But the space next to her was empty, and finding nothing woke her up with a start. Looking around the room in confusion, Blair realized with escalating bewilderment that Chuck wasn't in the room, nor was he in her bathroom that was dark and quiet. Disbelief spread in her veins like ice cold water and Blair shivered, suddenly freezing cold. No, he couldn't have left, could he?

A muffled sound reached her ears and Blair froze. When it could be heard again, she threw herself off the bed and reached for whatever pieces of clothing she could find, a pale green slip, throwing it over her head before dashing through the door and down the hall.

She spotted him immediately as she ran down the stairs; fully dressed and pushing the button to the elevator. "Chuck!" Her voice echoed in the silent apartment, bouncing between the walls as she ran down the stairs at a dangerous pace. "Don't." Chuck threw her a shocked look over his shoulder, watching her thoughtfully as she walked hurriedly towards him.

As soon as he turned around in the direction of her voice, Chuck wished that he hadn't. He wanted the anger and scorn she'd unleashed on him at the wedding, _needed_ it, because when she stood there dressed in that tiny piece of silk and frowning in confusion she looked so very tempting. It would be so easy to stay, do as she asked him to and take whatever he could get from her, consequences be damned. But he couldn't risk becoming the reason behind that heartbroken look on her face _again_, wasn't sure he'd recover from it. He could already see traces of it ghosting her features and it made him want to run and hide at the end of the world. It was all too fucking much, he couldn't think straight.

"I have to go."

"No," Blair objected immediately, her hand reaching out and closing around his wrist to keep him from moving away. "Or if you have to go, take me with you."

"I can't."

"Why?"

If there was a reason she wanted to hear it. She didn't _want_ him to leave and couldn't find a single reason why he 'had' to either, but if there was one she needed him to tell her.

The elevator arrived with a ding, but neither of them paid the any attention to the sound.

Chuck tried to wriggle free of her grasp, but stopped when Blair only tightened her grip and stepped closer, sucking in a breath between gritted teeth. He had to get out of there; had to remind her that he wasn't good for her, had to remind her that he was a screw-up, had to…

"I knew about your ex and Poppy."

Blair froze, her eyes widening as the words sunk in, and Chuck had to swallow hard against the sudden urge to take it all back.

"I knew he slept with her and didn't tell you."

Refusing to look her in the eyes Chuck found himself staring down on where her hand was still closed around his wrist. Only when she pulled away like she'd been burned did he look up and face her again.

"Thank you," Blair choked out in a barely there whisper, and there was that look in her eyes that he had known he'd be the cause of eventually. The one that released a swarm of wasps inside his stomach and made him want to do whatever it took to make it up to her. "That's all I needed to hear." She finished, folding her arms over her chest.

The doors of the elevator began to close, and Chuck quickly took two steps inside, disappearing out of sight.

Blair soon found herself staring at nothing but the silver doors of the elevator, rubbing her hands up and down her arms subconsciously. No. It echoed over and over in her head. No, no, no, no, no. She'd gotten a reason why he should leave, just like she'd wanted; another lie, another betrayal. But suddenly Chuck knowing about Nate and Poppy felt insignificant next to the fact that he apparently didn't want to be around her unless they were both naked.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been standing there, staring blankly at the closed door of the elevator, when a warm, strong hand closed around her cold one and Cyrus' voice cut through her daze."Come on, honey. Let's get you back in bed."

XOXO

There was a chill to the air, the sun having only just begun to shed its light over New York, as Chuck made his way out of the limo, blinking against the light. He got as far as the main entrance before the temporary dose of courage abandoned him and he realized what he was about to do. Desperately wishing for a drink (how come hospitals didn't have bars? They'd make a fortune) he ended up downing three cups of disgusting, black coffee from an unsteady Styrofoam cup in the hospital's cafeteria before he could talk himself into action once again.

Ignoring the nervous churning of his stomach, Chuck walked through the door of the private ward where his father was being treated. The nurse sitting behind the counter in the small reception area – a petite Asian woman - looked up when the door opened and greeted him with a guarded smile. "You're Mr. Bass ' son, am I right?"

Chuck nodded stiffly in response, and she got up from her chair to show him the way to Bart's room. If she was surprised or puzzled about the fact that Chuck didn't know which of the rooms his father was currently residing in, even though it had been four days since the accident, she concealed it well. Chuck followed her trail down the hall to the room furthest from the entrance door. Another nurse walked out the door as they came walking, carrying a clipboard, and her face lit up at the sight of Chuck and her colleague.

"Mr. Bass. Did you get the messages we left you?"

Messages? Chuck's hand went straight to the inner pocket of his suit jacket only to find it empty, but he was unconcerned about his phone's whereabouts as panic, ice-cold and crushing, washed over him. Messages about what? "No."

"Your father woke up a few hours ago."

Time, that had been moving slowly and leaving him feeling like he was walking in syrup since he first heard the news, momentarily froze before coming back to normal pace with a jump. Chuck's feet moved on their own volition, past the nurse and through the doorway. The sight that awaited him inside had the ground shifting beneath his feet. He hadn't seen his father in years, but nothing would ever have prepared him for the change in appearance that the last few days had brought the older Bass. The last time he'd seen Bart, the man had been the epitome of power; sitting on his throne behind the mahogany desk, giving out orders and controlling everything and everyone around him. The man in that hospital bed was barely a shadow of that man.

His father looked old. Old and pale and…_human_.

"…so far it's difficult to evaluate the extent of any kind of permanent damage that could have occurred, but Mr. Bass was quite lucid during the short period of time he was awake, and the doctor is optimistic regarding his chances for a full recovery."

The nurse's voice brought Chuck back to reality and he momentarily diverted his attention from the stranger in the hospital bed to her, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. He approached the bed in tentative steps, once returned his focus never wavering from Bart's sleeping form. Taking a seat on the highly uncomfortable chair next to the bed he took in the cuts and bruises, the cast around Bart's right leg, his gaze trailing the IV from where the end of the needle was taped to his father's hand, to the bag filled with sheer liquid. The regular beeping from the heart monitor was oddly soothing despite the graveness the device indicated. Chuck's fingers curled against the palm of his hand, aching to reach out and…something, and he fought the waves of embarrassment as he swallowed against the sudden thickness in his throat. You're a Bass, get yourself together.

Leaning back against the backrest of the chair, he shifted his gaze from Bart to his hands and finally allowed his mind to go where it had been striving since the nurse had told him about his father's awakening. The feeling that he'd made (another) huge mistake by leaving Blair behind was growing bigger by the second, simply because _she _had been the first thing on his mind when the nurse told him the good news Before the anxious lump that had been lodged in his chest for days had even begun to dissolve he'd thought of Blair. Had wanted her there, had wanted to tell her she'd been right and that everything would be okay.

He couldn't though; he'd made sure of that. He wasn't good enough for her. Staying away from her was the right thing to do. Not that his uncharacteristic act of unselfishness changed the rampant fluttering of butterflies in his stomach at the thought of her. He tried the words out in his head tentatively, twisting and turning them around, picking them apart and putting them back together again without the inwardly scrutiny changing a thing.

"I'm in love with Blair Waldorf."

It sounded like a foreign language even when he said it out loud, and Chuck quickly shut his mouth before any other unwanted confessions could slip out. Some things weren't meant to be shared with anyone.

Time passed, measured in the monotonous beeps from the machine attached to his father's chest. His thoughts however, refused to follow the same regular rate; racing through his still aching head (he blamed the vodka, scotch wouldn't have betrayed him like that). Suddenly with the feeling of being watched, Chuck looked up. The doorway was empty but as he turned his head his eyes met the blue ones of his father.

Bart was watching him in contemplative silence, looking more than a little confused about finding his only son at his bedside. Startled, Chuck got to his feet, his eyes never wavering from the older man.

"Nurse," he called out, and it was only seconds before the sound of footsteps approaching could be heard in the corridor outside. The nurse that had been carrying the clipboard earlier showed up in the doorway, and her face split open in a pleased smile at the sight of the conscious man in the bed.

"Mr. Bass, you decided to join us again." She chirped, and launched a series of soft-spoken questions directed at the older man as she checked something on the monitor. Bart answered her questions with small nods, never taking his eyes off Chuck who stood rooted to the spot. "I'm going to page Dr. Hannigan," the nurse explained once finished with her questions, giving Chuck's arm a comforting squeeze as she walked out.

"Chuck," Bart was the first one to speak in a voice hoarse from days of silence.

Later Chuck would be more than hesitant to admit it, but the amount of relief that flooded his system upon hearing his father speak his name instead of being six feet under was overwhelming. But the waves of relief seemed to bring with them a surge of mixed emotions, and exhaustion was closing in on him quickly. What the hell did you say to someone who'd disinherited you years ago and you hadn't spoken to since, only to then go and almost get themselves killed? Long time no see, glad you decided not to _die_? What now? The constant beeping of the heart monitor, that earlier had felt comforting, now felt like it was creeping under his skin, sending itching, electrical shocks through his system.

"Dad."He managed to choke out, the informal choice of words surprising them both, and then he was walking briskly out of the room and down the hall, ignoring the nurse calling out for him. Pushing the door to the ward open in haste, he almost crashed into a person approaching on the other side. Miranda.

Chuck stopped mid-step, his flight-plan momentarily forgotten, as he quickly evaluated the mood the older woman was in. Her eyes were almost completely void of the warmth they usually held for him. Alright, he probably deserved that.

"I got the news, he's awake." Miranda said curtly, silently giving Chuck the same evaluation.

"He is."

"I must say I'm surprised to see you here, Charles."

Chuck opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it again. No one could possibly be more surprised than him.

"But it's undeniably a pleasant one," Miranda continued, and then turned to open the door to the ward.

"Miranda-" Chuck called out for her, and breathed an inwardly sigh of relief when she turned around to face him with an expectant look on her face. "I-" He trailed off. He'd never been good at this kind of thing. "I owe you an apology…about yesterday."

_XOXOXOXO_

_Chuck fell back against the plush cushions of the couch with a huff, throwing one arm over his face. Stupid bitch. The taste of her lingered on his tongue, and as soon as the room stopped spinning he'd get off the couch and pour himself a drink of that horrid vodka to wash the foul taste away. A knock at the door startled him, but he quickly regained composure. "Fuck off," he growled in direction of the door, too wasted for another round of guilt-tripping with Blair Waldorf. The sound of a key card sliding through the slot however, had him moving to an upright position fast enough to send the room spinning twice as fast. Holding his breath Chuck looked over to the door, half expecting to see his father, just in time to see Miranda walk through the door with a stern look on her face._

_Miranda surveyed the room before fastening her eyes on Chuck. "I ran into Blair in the lobby," she didn't bother with pleasantries and went straight to business; ignoring the way her heart ached for the lost boy on the couch who looked so much like his child self in that moment. Sugarcoating things would get her nowhere. "She was quite upset."_

_Chuck let out an annoyed breath in response, and stumblingly made his way over to the bar._

"_Charles-" Miranda followed him there, putting a hand on his arm to stop him from pouring the drink. "I believe you've had more than enough," she stated calmly, and barely managed not to flinch when Chuck shot her a murderous glare through glassy eyes._

"_And I know I haven't had nearly enough for this kind of unwanted company," he sneered, jerking his arm free and pouring his drink. "Shouldn't you be at the hospital, wringing your hands and crying by my father's bedside like a good little wife?"_

_Miranda narrowed her eyes, "That's enough, Charles."_

_Chuck raised his eyebrows in mock salute and regarded her coolly as he studiously swallowed a mouthful of his drink. "Hit a nerve, did I?" He mocked, "Oh, that's right. You're already married." A pause, another mouthful of vodka burning its way down his throat. "Though that usually does little to discourage the mighty Bart Bass; he has never had a problem mixing business with pleasure. Is that what you two tell Richard when you whore yourself out to my father? That it's business?"_

_The sound of the palm of Miranda's hand connecting with Chuck's cheek startled them both. "Leave my husband out of this." Miranda snapped coolly, but then immediately regretted her action as the skin of his cheek turned red; "I'm so sorry."_

_Chuck took a few unsteady steps back, his dark eyes shooting daggers in her direction. "Get out."_

"_Charles, I-"_

"_Get the hell out," Chuck repeated, his voice as sharp and cutting as a blade, and Miranda had to admit defeat. No matter how much it pained her, there was no reasoning with Charles when he was in that mood._

_As she passed by the dresser by the door, she spotted the document lying there that Chuck for some reason had brought with him on his flight. A diploma with the name Charles Bass on it. That was certainly, interesting news, but it could wait. Last thing before leaving the suite, she turned around and caught the look of pure exhaustion on Chuck's face before his features hardened again. "Please don't turn away from the people that love you," she pleaded softly but loud enough for him to hear, "they're the only chance any of us has."_

_XOXOXOXO_

Miranda's face softened visibly, knowing how difficult it was for either man of the Bass family to admit that he'd been wrong. "Thank you. I'm sorry too."

Her easy acceptance of his apology had Chuck looking a little more relaxed, but Miranda could still see the tension left in his shoulders and wondered what had happened between the two men now that Bart was awake. "I need to go see your father." Miranda smiled, immensely relieved by her friends recovery "Are you coming back later?"

Chuck wanted to say no. Scream it from the rooftop of the tallest building in New York. He didn't know what to say to the stranger in the hospital bed that apparently was his father. Didn't know what to _feel_ about it all. But he'd be back, if nothing else than to make sure he really wasn't about to become an orphan and rid himself of the sliver of fear that still remained, so he answered Miranda with a brief nod.

XOXO

Confusion had settled over her like a thick blanket; invading her mind and slowing her movements. The events of the past night felt like a dream. A disoriented, painful nightmare. Bits and pieces of what had happened kept flashing by her eyes in a never-ending stream; '_make yourself…useful_', that look in Chuck's eyes when she found him on her bed, the flames of pleasure dancing down her spine when he touched her, '_I knew about your ex and Poppy_'.

Blair wasn't even sure she cared about the Nate-and-Poppy-charade anymore, not sure she cared about the lies and the hurt. That would all be okay if only someone could tell her that it had been for something. If _he_ could tell that it had been for something, then it would be worth it.

"Blair, honey, there you are." Cyrus' voice interrupted her train of thought and she looked up at him in bewilderment. The compassion was evident in the older man's eyes, and she could feel her composure crumbling. "How are you feeling?"

"He left."

The words slipped out before she could stop them, somehow summarizing all her twirling emotions and answered Cyrus' question all at once. Everything was wrong and she wasn't okay because _he left_. The sob tearing its way up her throat momentarily stunned both herself and her step-father, but it wasn't long before Blair found herself in a typical Cyrus Rose embrace.

"I forgave him for all the crap he's pulled, and he still _left_." She cried against Cyrus' sweater, then pulled back to look at her step-father, "I must have been crazy thinking that he'd be any different from the rest."

"'Is there any great love without a little lunacy?'" Cyrus replied, ignoring Blair's mumbled protest at the use of 'love', but then his expression turned serious again, "He just needs time." He gave her a comforting smile, wiping a tear off her cheek. "And you need to eat something." He loosened his grip around her frame and made a move as to step away.

"Wait," Blair objected and hugged him tighter; "not enough."

XOXO

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_("There can be lunacy without love, but is there any great love without a little lunacy?" – Yochanan Tversky)_

_Thanks for reading, I hope it was worth the wait._

_Review?_

_Camilla_


	15. Chapter 15

_**A/N** Thanks for the review, guys! This fic is coming to an end, right now it looks like there are only two more chapters to go._

_Thank you to the amazing Noirreigne for looking this over for me!_

_**Parts of this chapter is rated M**, consider yourself warned!!!_

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"_I knew you'd be back." She turned around slowly to face him; a victorious grin playing on her lips that only widened as her gaze landed on him where he stood, leaning nonchalantly against the doorpost. Playing with the pearls that hung around her neck, the smile died on her face when she noticed how his dark, hungry eyes followed the expensive string of beads to where they rested in the valley between her breasts, and her expression changed to mirror his. She had missed him._

_He didn't reply, but moved from his position by the door and approached her in slow, predatory steps. Blair quivered, suddenly weak in the knees from the promise she saw in his eyes. He stopped when he was so close she could feel the heat evaporating from his body, causing goose bumps to appear on her skin. The air between them simmered, pulling the air out of her lungs and leaving her breathless. When he leaned in and placed a kiss on her cheek, his hand coming up to cradle her jaw, the sigh that escaped her lips told of the longing his absence had left her with. His lips ghosted over her skin, barely touching her at all, but she could feel the smirk on his lips when the light touch caused her to shudder. "Chuck," his name fell from her lips in a soft whisper as she tilted her head to grant him better access, moaning softly as his tongue came out to wet the skin over the pulse point on her neck. The lack of response from him spurred her into action, pulling back slightly she slid her hand up his shoulder and neck to fist in his hair, pulling his mouth against hers. The world turned foggy then, blurring around the edges with each stroke of his tongue against hers. It wasn't long before they were once more back on her bed, clothes on the floor, and relishing in the sensation of skin against skin._

_It was as perfect as she had remembered, like he'd never left her alone in the small hours of the morning. He was everywhere, touching, kissing, licking, and Blair could feel desire growing like a ball of fire in her abdomen. Arching towards his touch she tugged at his hair impatiently, her pleas drowned in a groan. He chuckled softly against her stomach - the first sound he'd made since entering the room - as his hand slid down the outside of her thigh, his fingers teasing the skin at the back of her knee. _

_She wanted him like she'd never wanted anyone. She needed him. Needed him to do something about the maddening itch as well as fill that aching, empty hole in her chest that he'd left behind when he left. His lips brushed against her hip bone, and Blair's hips bucked to meet his touch. The hand that came out to keep her pressed firmly into the mattress tore another restless groan from her lips. When he momentarily stilled, his face hovering over her sex, Blair nearly stopped breathing in aching anticipation. "Chuck," she pleaded, and managed to drag his one syllable name out into at least three, her voice thick with need. Chuck turned his head to look at her; raising an eyebrow in question, his eyes dancing with mirth. "Please." The smile in his eyes spread to his mouth and he grinned against her curls, his hand stroking a path down her thigh before he granted her wish. _

_Time stopped, everything seized to exist except the wild, overpowering sensation he unleashed as he tasted her with his tongue. Her fingernails were digging into his back, creating crescent shaped marks in his flesh. When he pulled away Blair let out a whine at the loss of contact. Seconds later his face was leveled with hers again, he offered her his lips and she kissed him hungrily; their flavors combining on her tongue. Blair's hips bucked up to meet him, her eyes fluttering shut in anticipation, as he positioned himself at her entrance but he backed away. "Say it." His demand echoed inside of her, bouncing between the walls of her clouded mind _

_Blair forced her eyes open to focus on his once more, "Say what? I'll say anything," she breathed against his lips, feeling them tug into a smirk before he pulled away. She wriggled her hips in an attempt to distract him, and desperately tried to capture his mouth with her own, letting out a frustrated moan when he refused to let their lips fuse together. She was so close. So very, achingly close all she needed was to feel him fill her and she knew she'd be flying._

_With a strength she hadn't thought herself capable of, Blair managed to vanish the red, velvety cloud from her mind long enough to focus on Chuck's face, and suddenly she knew what it was he was asking of her. The answer was right there in his eyes for her to see. "I'm yours." She whispered breathlessly, "I'm yours, Chuck. I -"_

_The rest of her confession got lost in a ragged cry as Chuck pushed inside of her and the world erupted in blinding, white heat._

The remains of sparkling fireworks were still dancing in her veins as Blair woke up with a start, sitting up straight in her very empty bed. Swallowing hard it took her a few seconds to realize that it had only been a dream - a very vivid and unsettlingly detailed one, but a dream at that - and she fell back against the pillows with a tired groan. Damn him and double-damn her traitorous subconscious. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten a full night's sleep; always waking up in the aftermath of a dream. Not all of them ended with her…youknowwhat-ing, some ended by the elevator with her watching him leave or with her running around the house looking for him. If the sleep deprivation wasn't bad enough, the constant and aching longing for him definitely made her existence less than perfect. She didn't want him, and she didn't _need_ him either. Well, the logical and sensible part of her didn't want or need him (or so she kept telling herself), unfortunately other parts of her anatomy hadn't gotten the memo. She could get by just fine on her own, she knew that, but the constant reminders from her subconscious did make it difficult to remember from time to time.

XOXO

Chuck walked past the reception, not as much as looking at the nurse sitting there, and walked down the hall. It felt like trying to force the wrong ends of two magnets together; he didn't want to make even another step further down that hall, would've preferred to be far, far away from the hospital in the first place. All the tests his father had gone through had come back with good results, and the doctors had been pleased to inform them that even though Bart's damaged leg would demand some physical therapy, the older Bass hadn't sustained any permanent injury in the accident that had nearly claimed his life. However, those of his injuries not yet fully healed had required him to remain admitted, especially since his doctor feared that the man would exhaust himself with work if he was released. Chuck and his father had formed a truce of sorts during the almost two weeks his father had spent in hospital consisting of close to daily visits from Chuck where the conversations were limited to awkward and short conversations.

Chuck spotted Miranda, dressed in a powder blue, linen wrap-dress that made her look nothing like her age, snapping her cell phone shut before walking over to one of the sofas in the waiting area and sitting down, letting out a weary breath as she did so. Chuck's movement caught her eye as she reached for her bag, "Charles, how good to see you."

"Is there a problem?" Chuck inquired, moving to sit next to her on the sofa.

Miranda let out a frustrated sound. "You could call it that," she sighed, motioning toward some folders lying on the table. "Or a small catastrophe, either works."

Chuck raised an eyebrow, silently asking her to go on.

"Your father and I just got some bad news about the new project the company's working on here in New York -" Miranda began to explain, picking up a file and flipping through it as she did.

The fact that his father was busy working from his hospital bed didn't surprise Chuck the slightest. The two weeks of forced bed rest had been driving the workaholic Bart out of his right mind. It was a close call between who was more relieved about his father's discharge come the next morning; Bart himself or the nurses on the ward.

"Bass Industries is building a new hotel over on the Upper West Side, but some problems have come up with the architect." Miranda continued, "We had assigned Stuart Townsend to come up with the design, -"

Chuck let out a derisive snort when Miranda brought up the renowned architect's name. Stuart Townsend might be one of the most sought after men in the industry, but also the one with the worse social reputation too.

Miranda ignored his reaction, spreading the documents and designs out on the table in front of her, "And if that wasn't problem enough, we've been in contact with City Hall and apparently Stuart's original design will not be approved. The next meeting is in less than three weeks and if we can't present a new idea by then, we'll lose the contract and a lot of money."

"That's what happens when you trust your money with a loser like Townsend," Chuck scoffed, but Miranda noted the spark of interest in his eyes and was barely able to keep from smiling.

She nodded to the blueprints in front of them. "There's an old bar in one of the buildings that we had originally planned on tearing down, so that building is now considered to be close to a cultural monument. Something that needs to be taken into consideration in the new design if we're to get our permits."

Suddenly Bart's voice came from his room, "Miranda?"

Getting up from her seat, Miranda offered Chuck a weary smile before making her way into Bart's room. When she emerged a while later, ready to leave for a lunch with her husband, she found Chuck still sitting on the sofa, looking at the designs spread out on the table. He was lost in thought and didn't even notice her. When he resolutely flipped one of the designs over and retrieved a pen from the inner pocket of his suit jacket and began to sketch something on the paper in broad strokes, Miranda could no longer keep the victorious grin from appearing on her face, and decided to leave him to it. Seemed the problems with Townsend would prove to be the best thing that could have happened, considering the plan she had for the Bass men. One couldn't spend as much time as she had with the two of them over the years and not pick up on a few tricks or two.

XOXO

Blair stabbed her fork through a piece of chicken and hid a yawn behind her free hand. The dream from yesterday had returned last night and robbed her of sleep yet again.

"Are you okay?" Serena asked her worriedly, taking a sip of her sparkling mineral water before putting the glass back on the table. They were having lunch in one of their old favorite hang-outs, the first one in a long, long while; slowly but surely finding their way back to the friendship neither was willing to give up.

"No, but I will be." Blair replied absentmindedly, shuffling a piece of asparagus around on her plate, "he can't haunt me forever, right?"

The words had barely left her mouth before she realized her slip. Serena had not been referring to Chuck – a brief look over to her friend made the conclusion undisputable - but to her tired and distant behavior, not necessarily linking them together with the lack of Basstard in her life. Blair cringed, preparing herself for the questioning that was sure to come. Serena looked torn for a second, obviously deliberating whether or not to push the subject further; if the wounds had healed enough for her to venture into such dangerous territories. Apparently deciding that; yes, she would. Serena offered her a compassionate smile, "I'm sorry, B. He doesn't realize what he's missing out on."

Blair gave an evasive shrug, struggling against the sudden lump in her throat. She finished the last piece of chicken from her plate, then removed the linen napkin from her lap and stood up, "I'll be right back," she told Serena and walked across the room to the restroom.

Well inside one of the stalls, she leaned back against the door and closed her eyes; banishing the memories of another stall and someone pushing her against the wall from her mind. She focused on her breathing, counting each breath until she could feel the ridiculous sadness melting away. Leaving the cubicle her gaze fell upon her own reflection in the mirror. She looked positively dreadful. Frowning, Blair pulled the lip gloss from her bag and reapplied it carefully before running her fingers through her hair and smoothing out her dress. You're Grace Kelly, Grace Kelly is you, and you do not need _him_. She finished with pinching her cheeks to give some color to her pale complexion.

She spotted him the second she walked out the door, and her first reaction was a string of highly un-ladylike curses running through her head. He was over at their table, standing with his back to her and talking amicably with Serena. She waited for a stab of pain, a quick slicing feeling in her gut, but nothing came. Raising her chin high Blair made her way over to the two of them, noticing Serena's panicked look as she spotted her. He didn't notice her until she was right beside him, starting a little and for a second looking like a deer caught in headlights.

"Blair."

"Nate," Blair replied icily, "Fancy seeing you here."

"Yeah," Nate shifted his weight nervously, running a hand through his sun streaked hair. Courtesy of his honeymoon, no doubt.

"Listen, Blair…uhm, can I talk to you for a second?" Nate stuttered, then added a quick; "please?"

Serena's pleading look was not lost on Blair and she barely kept from rolling her eyes at her friend. What did she expect Blair to do? Throw a tantrum and empty her Perrier over Nate's head?

Blair nodded in agreement and walked out into the restaurant's foyer with Nate following closely behind her. Once there she turned around to face him, arms folded over her chest, noting with satisfaction how he shrunk under her glare. She might be willing to listen to what he had to say, but that didn't mean she had any plans of making it easier for him.

Nate ran a hand through his hair again (how had she not noticed how annoying that habit was before?)

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, again." Nate said, but then seemed to find his bearings. "I'm really sorry, Blair. I never wanted to be that guy, the one who cheats on his fiancée. I never wanted to hurt you."

"You still don't get it, do you?" Blair sighed. "Yes, you cheated on me and it hurt, but it's not all about that."

Nate looked taken aback by her honesty, as if he hadn't expected her to admit that his actions had hurt her, and a little confused too.

"We've known each other since we were five years old, and for a long while I thought you were my happy ending," Blair explained, she'd given it some thought over the last couple of sleepless nights she'd had, "but fairytales end when they do for a reason, and ours ended long before you slept with Poppy or left me at the altar. You lied to me, on more than one occasion. That makes you a shitty boyfriend, and an even worse friend. What kind of friend lies about something like that, Nate?"

"I know." Nate mumbled, looking truly sorry for everything that had gone down between them. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are." Blair smiled sadly, her voice softening a little but the steel didn't completely leave her eyes. "You were my first love, and you'll always have a place in my heart because of that." She took a breath before finishing, "but I don't have a place for you in my life right now."

Nate offered her a wistful smile. "Yeah, alright, I understand." He looked around the room, lost in thought, before checking his watch, "I should get going; maybe I'll see you around."

He looked hopeful, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Blair saw a trace of her old friend in him.

"Probably," She agreed. "Don't be a stranger, Archibald."

She followed him with her eyes as he made his way out onto the street, and then headed back inside the dining area. Serena was on the phone when she returned to their table, absentmindedly twining a golden lock around her finger as she spoke. Blair's eyes narrowed in suspicion, she knew that look.

"Okay, I'll see you there….me too…okay. Bye!"

"Alright, who is he?" Blair said as she pulled out her chair and set down opposite her friend.

"Who?" Serena replied in feigned innocence, "How did it go with Nate?"

"Don't you change the subject," Blair laughed, giddy with relief and curiosity. "I know that look. Who's the guy?"

The lack of resistance on her best friend's side was, as usual, questionable. The blonde's expression softened into an infatuated smile. "Oh, B. He's so amazing." Serena sighed, resting her chin in her hand. "We met at the wedding and just hit it off immediately…" She then proceeded to tell Blair all about 'new guy', who had apparently quickly become a set fixture in her life. "…No ones ever looked at me the way he does."

Blair had a sip of her water, trying to ignore the jab of pain in her chest and be truly happy for her friend. No need for both of them to be unwanted and boyfriend-less. "What's his name? Do I know anything about him?"

Serena instantly became extremely interested in the leftovers on her plate, "Not really."

"Not really? Did he go to St Jude's?"

"His name's Dan," Serena offered reluctantly, "Dan Humphrey."

"Humphrey?" Blair frowned, "I've never heard of the Humphrey's, is he a friend of tacky-man stealer-Poppy?"

"Not really…" Serena shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and then mumbled something nearly unintelligible with her gaze fixed firmly on the pristine, white table cloth.

Blair eyed her in growing apprehension, hoping Serena hadn't just said what Blair thought she heard. "He's a _what_?!" She shrieked whisperingly, catching the attention of more than a few people seated at the tables around them.

"A cater waiter!" Serena repeated, a defiant look in her eyes when she faced Blair. "But I couldn't care less about that, or where he lives," she added, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "There's nothing wrong with Brooklyn!"

Blair stared at the alien that had apparently replaced her best friend while she spoke with Nate in horror. "Oh dear God, please stop your mouth from moving."

XOXO

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_

_My muse seems to be making a guest appearance for now, but I would really love you guys telling me what you think and then maybe the next chapter won't be such a * to write._

_If you want some non-dream!C/B, I posted a M-rated one-shot a few days ago called "In Your Hands" ;)_

_Camilla_


	16. Chapter 16

_**A/N** My life is insanely busy right now, it took the cold from hell, an ear infection and an eye infection (I've been multi-tasking, haha) before I took a few days off school and actually have time to finish this._

_Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed/put this on alert, you are lovely!_

_Thank you to my lovely friend Robin for beta:ing this for me!_

* * *

The coffee was long cold in the mug almost hidden completely from sight underneath heaps of papers and discarded drawings. The sky outside the window was dark, with the promise of daylight only beginning to show at the horizon. Chuck let out a deep breath as he let go of the pen, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he rolled his shoulders to ease some of the kinks in his neck that had formed from working for hours sitting on a plush couch. He hadn't slept all night, too busy with transforming the idea that had been dancing in his mind into designs and fancy words, but he savored the feeling of fatigue. It meant that once he closed his eyes exhaustion would keep him from lying awake, tossing and turning, with her face seemingly tattooed onto his retinas. Leave it up to a fucking amazing idea - and the desire to prove once and for all to his father that he wasn't the child he'd once been - to finally banish the memories of a certain witty and sexy as hell brunette from his mind. Oh fuck. Well, at least it had lasted as long as he'd been holding on to a pen. He'd lasted at least five hours without thinking of her since he'd given up all thoughts of sleep around midnight.

Hastily forming the papers and sketches into a somewhat orderly pile, Chuck could feel his movements slowing down and becoming more and more sluggish as exhaustion finally took control over his body. It was almost five o'clock in the morning he realized as he slumped back against the couch, suddenly too tired to move over to the undoubtedly more comfortable bed.

XOXO

Chuck walked through the entrance door of his father's private ward a few hours later with a spring to his step; greeting the blonde nurse with a chipper 'good morning' that had the woman looking like she might keel over from shock.

The documents in the folder in his hand were so much better than the sad, unoriginal blueprints that Townsend had come up with (probably during one of his coke benders) that it could barely be considered a competition. It was a brilliant design, probably the best one he'd ever come up with and he'd never really been modest when it came to his work. He'd leave it with his father before Bart left the ward later on that day; which he would unless something unexpected showed up in the last tests the doctor planned on running.

The sound of his father talking to someone reached him as he approached the door, "…I'm not so sure about that, Bart."

It was Miranda's voice Chuck realized as he reached the doorway, and he experienced a thrill of excitement at the prospect of her being around to witness what was to come, but then froze in his steps when his father replied.

"Charles' true colors have always escaped you somehow."

The two of them had their back to Chuck, neither of them aware of his presence in the room. Bart was busy gathering things into a leather briefcase and Miranda was standing by the window, looking out. "You've constantly managed to find excuses for his behavior; the attitude, the women, the drinking…You are an intelligent woman, Miranda, but when it comes to my son you've always been ridiculously naïve."

His lungs were burning, and Chuck sucked in air as he realized he'd been holding his breath. His upbeat mood quickly evaporated, leaving a sour aftertaste in its wake. He should have known nothing would be different between them. Shouldn't have expected anything - shouldn't want _anything_ – from the man that shared his DNA. But the words still stung, prickling his skin as old memories came rushing back. He vaguely registered Miranda saying something, but his focus was on Bart.

"Please, I'm only surprised there hasn't been more press coverage of his endeavors."

"I've been buying them off," Chuck interjected, watching both his father and Miranda turn around. The older woman was wide-eyed and opening her mouth to speak but Chuck wasn't looking at her. He was staring at his father instead, ignoring the tightness in his chest. Bart didn't look guilty or apologetic, only regarded his son in stoic silence; the approachable facade had faded in tune with the bruises. "Couldn't have my _father_ think less of me." Chuck spat, his indifferent mask slipping temporarily as he tossed the folder on his father's empty bed before turning around and leaving the room without another word.

XOXO

He was sitting at the bar in the Palace's bar, nursing a drink but not really that into the idea of getting wasted, when someone sat down on the seat next to him. A quick glance from out of the corner of his eye told him it was Miranda, and he straightened in his seat. "Spare me the pep talk."

Miranda ignored him, calmly ordering herself a Martini and smiling politely at the bartender. Her drink arrived quickly and she had a sip, hoping for some instant Dutch courage, before turning her attention to Chuck. Sometimes she went into these kinds of meetings thinking she should be wearing night vision goggles and protective gear; both Bass men were so keen on covering themselves and their thoughts with barbed comments, smoke and mirrors.

"I've known your father for a long, time." She began, toying with the bracelet around her wrist absentmindedly, "So I consider myself entitled to say that he can be a real idiot at times."

Chuck's eyes widened; he had not been expecting that for a conversation opener. Studiously taking another sip of his own drink, he kept his eyes glued on the bar in front of him.

"But I think today was the first time that I actually told him as much." Miranda mused out loud, and smiled wider at the shocked look she got from him. "Don't look so surprised, Charles. I'm not some fragile push-over. I speak my mind."

"I am well aware," Chuck smirked in spite of himself.

"If your father can't see the change in you then that's his loss." Miranda went on, well aware of how Chuck shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Honestly, for someone who perfected the act of being full of himself, he really wasn't very adapt at handling praise. "What you've done takes determination and hard work, and I want you to know that – for what it's worth - I'm proud of you."

The unexpected compliment and the flood of affection for the woman who had been more or less like a mother for him throughout the years completely floored him. "Thank you." He finally managed to reply, having another sip of his drink. The night was turning out like something from the Twilight Zone.

"I haven't seen your lovely Blair around lately," Miranda said after a while, and watched how the air seemed to leave Chuck in the seat next to her, but he quickly recovered and shot her an annoyed glare. Smoke and mirrors it was then.

"She's not _my_ Blair."

"That's a shame."

"Not the words I'd choose."

"Don't be ridiculous, Charles." Miranda replied light-heartedly, "You might try and fool yourself, but you can't fool me. You are head over heels for that girl."

"How did-" Chuck began but stopped immediately, his eyes narrowing in irritation. He'd been played.

"I didn't." Miranda agreed lightly, "I was fishing. But you love her, that's wonderful."

"Is that why I lied to her, treated her like shit and fucking broke things off with her?!" Chuck snapped, more than a little uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken, and his own sudden talkativeness.

"Language, Charles." Miranda smiled sadly.

Chuck didn't notice her expression, too busy glaring at the near empty glass in front of him, wishing that Misty had been around to have this conversation with her son but at the same time knowing that had her old friend been around they probably wouldn't be having it in the first place. But now wasn't the time to dwell on what could have been. "I didn't know you broke up with Blair. Why did you do that?"

Chuck shrugged; the nonchalant movement jerky and forced. "She deserves better."

The response brought a scoff from Miranda that diverted his attention from the drink in front of him, and he raised an eyebrow in the older woman's direction. "Something on your mind?"

"I can't believe I'm saying this for the second time today," Miranda scoffed, blue eyes staring him down. "But you're an idiot."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Miranda said calmly. "You're an idiot. First of all; self-depreciation doesn't become you, and second; the decision whether or not you're good enough for Blair wasn't yours to make."

Chuck winced, remembering standing by an elevator in the middle of the night, Blair's hand closed around his wrist and the tears in her eyes. "I can't make her happy."

Miranda's eyes softened, "You got that stubborn streak from your mother." She concluded as she got to her feet, and Chuck sharpened his ears at the mentioning of his mother. "If you are so dead-set on that she deserves 'better'" she said the last word in a tone that betrayed her feelings on the subject perfectly, "Then isn't it time to stop sulking and do something about it? I never took you for a quitter."

Chuck could only stare at her in silence, a confused frown on his face.

"The advice is free," Miranda said, checking the time on her slim, gold wristwatch, "but I put my drink on your tab. Have a good evening, Charles."

Chuck stared in the direction Miranda had left long after she had disappeared out of view, and couldn't help thinking that maybe she'd been right. He wasn't a quitter. He was _Chuck Bass _for fuck's sake.

XOXO

It was not yet noon, the streets had only just begun to empty of commuters and stressed out business men on their way to important conference calls or breakfast meetings, but he was already out of bed. Staring down at the phone in his hand, Chuck tried to process just how the conversation that had just ended had somehow turned out better than he could ever have expected it to do. Sure, the whole thing with Bart yesterday did dampen any kind of exuberant festivities, but he'd still gotten the best news possible. Screw Bart and his precious company; he could do without his help, or his approval.

A knock on the door caused his head to snap up and vanished all thoughts of brilliant futures and a gorgeous brunette. The knock was quickly followed by the sound of the door being unlocked, and Chuck got up from his position on the couch. He hadn't ordered anything from room service. When he caught sight of his father in the doorway, his confusion grew and he had to fight to keep from crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

"Can I come in?" Bart asked as he walked through the door, immaculately dressed in a suit that must have been tailored to fit the plastic cast on his leg.

Chuck raised an eyebrow at the superfluous question. "Seems I can't stop you." He retorted and sat back down on the couch, picking up a paper from the coffee table and swallowing to rid himself of the dryness in his throat. Ignoring Bart might be a tad childish, but he couldn't care less.

Bart was still supporting himself on one crutch to keep from overstressing the injured leg and walked up to the couch, sitting down next to Chuck. He leaned the crutch against the side of the couch before resting his arms on his knees. The move was unexpected, Chuck had anticipated his father to remain standing and gain the advantage of towering over him. He found himself repaying the gesture by putting the paper he'd been pretending to read back on the table. If he'd been taken aback by his father having a seat next to him, the words that came next were even more surprising.

"I want to apologize, son." Bart said, and when Chuck turned his head to look at him in shock, he found that his father was staring straight ahead, the muscles in his jaw working as he swallowed.

"Apologize?"

The sarcasm in his voice wasn't lost on his father, but Bart didn't bother addressing it. Chuck waited on edge for a response, somehow managing to sit still even though his insides were a twirling mess. An apology from Bart Bass was about as rare as a UES marriage lasting 'til death do us part'. Thinking of it, Chuck was pretty sure he'd never heard those words come out of his father's mouth before.

"I know I've had…problems being close to you", Bart shot him a brief glance, "and that I haven't always been fair in my assessment of you.

No shit. Chuck couldn't help the cynical snort from breaking his silence and was floored when Bart shot him a look that could only be described as guilty.

The buried part of him that still wanted his father's approval stirred, stretching and growing with each passing second, but pride kept him from saying anything to make the conversation any easier for Bart.

"I had a look at the documents you left at the hospital yesterday and I must say I was surprised." Chuck silently braced himself for the criticism that was undoubtedly to come.

"I've made some terrible mistakes in my life, but I don't want to make another." Bart looked straight at him as he spoke but Chuck had no trouble meeting the older man's gaze this time, a flood of warmth spreading in his veins. "I want to know my son."

It wasn't really about standards set too high, disapproving frowns or missed parent-teacher conferences, but it was a start. Chuck offered the older man a barely there smile as tension left his shoulders. It was the only way he could accept the almost-apology because he didn't quite trust words to come out right at that point. Things were still so far from okay, but if Bart could acknowledge that he'd been wrong and apologize, then maybe he could give their relationship another try. _Maybe_.

"So, would you be interested in a deal?" Bart continued, and once again flipped Chuck's world over completely. Was the man serious? Excitement was bubbling in his chest, but he refused to let it spread to his face. He wasn't about to forgo all tricks of business simply because his father had suddenly decided to act like he had actually hit his head a little too hard in that accident. Don't appear too eager.

"I just got off the phone with William Hunting." He began, and had to fight hard to keep the smug grin of his face at the sight of the frown on Bart's. "I met with him earlier this week, and he called to offer me a position with his firm."

Chuck knew very well who William Hunting was - and the history that existed between the man and his father - but he made sure to betray none of that as he continued, "But if Bass Industries can give me a better offer, I suppose I could consider it."

Bart's eyes narrowed but they held none of the displeasure that could have been expected – they were only filled with silent approval. He knew the game too. "I'll have my lawyers draw up a suggestion for a contract."

XOXO

* * *

_Next chapter is the last one my friends, crazy huh?_

_It's already in the progress of being written, I'll try and make the last update a fast(-ish) one._

_Thanks for reading, review on your way out?!_

_Camilla_


	17. Chapter 17

_**A/N** Here we go guys, the last chapter._

_Parts of this chapter is **rated M**, consider yourself warned!_

* * *

Blair smoothed her hands over the plum silk of her gown, turning to inspect the way the fabric clung to her curves and bit her lip; suddenly not so sure about her choice. It was a gorgeous dress, floor-length, thin straps and a panel of crystals stretching over her abdomen…and it was close to backless. She turned back around with a huff, trying to convince herself that as long as her hair was down it wouldn't matter. She looked good, her date would approve. Her dress might be a little more risky than the garments she usually went for, but it wasn't likely that anyone would dare comment on her attire with her date in the room. One of the perks with being on the arm of such a prominent figure of society.

Another frown appeared on her face at the thought of the night's event, accompanied by a nervous churning of her stomach. It was a benefit supported by the mayor and his wife and Blair had no doubts that a certain smirking basshole would be present. It had been weeks, she really shouldn't be this worried about running into _him_. Besides, she'd be making it perfectly clear that he'd made a huge mistake letting her go. Not that she cared about what he thought. Not at all.

"Ms. Blair?" Dorota interrupted her thoughts from the doorway and the maid's face lit up at the sight of her protégé in front of the mirror. "O, such lovely dress. Your visitor is waiting in foyer."

"Tell him I'll be right down," Blair replied, stepping into her black satin pumps after a final look in the mirror. The maid disappeared out of sight, and she quickly gathered her things and put them in her clutch.

She walked slowly down the stairs, careful not to step on the hem of her dress and rip the delicate fabric. Blue eyes met hers, and she smiled at the visual he provided in his nicely cut tuxedo.

"Congressman," she winked in spite of the nervous fluttering in her stomach, laughing as he took her hand in his and kissed it with a mischievous look in his eyes.

"Are you planning on referring to me in those words all night?" Tripp laughed, offering her his arm. "I do find it hard to take seriously coming from you. It kind of clashes with my memories of the girl that used to compare my skills on the football field to a disabled monkey's."

"Well, you were never destined for the NFL, I only saw it fit to guide you in a different direction." Blair quipped as they made their way inside the elevator. She'd always liked Tripp and enjoyed his company. Naturally, they hadn't gotten to spend any time together in a while, with her living in San Francisco and no longer dating his cousin, but tonight would change that.

It wasn't a romantic date in any way; they'd run in to each other on the street a week ago and gotten talking. When they had realized they were both going to the same benefit Friday evening, Tripp had asked her to be his date and 'rescue him from an undoubtedly dreadful evening'. He'd recently separated from his horrible wife and was in no way ready to start dating again. Blair in turn had found a golden opportunity to secure herself a date for the event.

"You look…amazing, Blair." Tripp told her on their way down to the lobby, giving her an appreciative once-over.

Blair swatted his shoulder in mock offence, "You better keep your hands to yourself, van der Bilt."

XOXO

Chuck nodded absentmindedly to give the man he was currently talking to the impression that he was actually listening, and let his gaze travel across the extravagant ball room, one of the Palace's smaller ball rooms. His insides felt just like the champagne bubbling in the crystal flute in his hand. He _knew_ she was going to be in attendance, a phone call and some sweet talk had been all it took to get that specific piece of information.

Another of his father's business associates came up to congratulate him, slapping him heartily on the back like such caveman behavior was going out of style. He exchanged a few polite words about the company's latest success - securing the building permits for the hotel he'd designed - and then excused himself.

He walked across the marble floors of the ball room, heading for the bar, when he came face to face with Serena van der Woodsen. Her eyes narrowed for a brief moment before her face lit up and she offered him a polite nod, one which he returned with growing hope. If Serena was there then surely her brunette counterpart would be too, right?

That was when he saw her.

It was like being struck over the head with something blunt and heavy, accompanied by his insides doing a highly ungraceful flip-flop. Chuck was pretty sure he'd lost his ability to speak, and it probably wouldn't have mattered anyway. He sincerely doubted that he'd be able to find words fitting enough to describe her at that moment even if his vocal chords had been functioning properly. He was once again assaulted by the thought that he probably didn't come close to deserving her. But damn, he _wanted_ her like he'd never wanted anyone. That silky excuse of a gown was hugging every curve of her body, and as she turned around Chuck had to swallow hard at the sight of the exposed line of her back.

He was heading in her direction before he could even begin to process what he was doing, or what he was going to say once he reached her. But he didn't have to worry about his choice of words for very long. As he moved towards her she turned around and their eyes locked. They stared at each other, not more than twenty feet left between them, and he felt that familiar fluttering in the pit of his stomach before she diverted her gaze.

Her heart was thumping in her chest as Blair turned around in the direction of Tripp's voice, smiling as he came back with two flutes of champagne. She accepted the glass from him and made sure to link her arm with his, offering him a smile that felt so fake she feared her makeup would crack and fall off her face. Glancing over to Chuck she caught him looking at the two of them, and the expression on his face had the smile dying on her lips. He had no right looking at her like that, like she was doing something wrong. A lump began to form in her throat so she forced her attention back to Tripp, walking beside him as he made his way over to the mayor. Head held high, shoulders back and a new smile just wide enough on her lips - whatever it took to keep the sorrow in her chest from showing in the way she held herself. She would get through the night even if it killed her.

XOXO

She would be the death of him, Chuck was sure of that. Every tinkling laugh, whispered word and light touch directed at that slimy guy she was with felt like a paper cut and made his blood pressure spike possessively. He'd been standing in the corner farthest from where she was standing with her date and their company, observing every move she made both during dinner and now afterwards. He took a sip from the glass in his hand, wishing he could write the look she gave that slime ball off as fake. He remembered how her mouth didn't really match her eyes when she was lying, or faking emotion, but he couldn't really tell from that distance. Worry had begun to claw at him, thoughts that he was too late to fix his mistakes racing in his mind. He needed to talk to her, needed to explain…everything. Too bad he had no idea how or where, or where to begin.

When she made her way out onto the dance floor, still on the arm of that _guy_, Chuck decided that he needed some air. Air and a refill on his drink.

He was out on the balcony, lit with hundreds of tiny fairy lights, refilled tumbler in hand restlessly smoking a cigarette when someone walked up next to him. He caught a glimpse of blonde hair and was in no hurry to look in the woman's direction. Instead he finished his smoke in peace, flicking the cigarette butt over the balcony rail before turning to face the blonde.

"There's really no point going out for fresh air and then standing next to someone that's smoking." He pointed out dryly. Serena was shivering and rubbed her hands up and down her arms a few times before speaking.

"Aren't you going to talk to her?" Serena sounded indignant, and the look she gave him could only be described as impatient.

"She looks to be otherwise engaged." Chuck replied, not bothering with pretending he didn't know who she was referring to, and contemplated whether or not she'd go away if he lit another cigarette.

Serena let out a humorless laugh, tossing a mass of blonde curls over her shoulder. "Blair isn't interested in Tripp."

"I'm not sure the other guests would disagree with your assessment of the situation."

"Please. She's not over you." Serena scoffed, "Now do something about it, will you?"

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"I figured I owed you one," Serena shrugged and then shivered again.

Chuck raised an eyebrow in question and had another sip of his scotch as he waited for her to elaborate.

"I never got a chance to thank you-" Serena trailed off, suddenly looking a little embarrassed with the whole situation. "You took the fall for us, after the pool party, and I never got the chance to say thanks. You didn't have to do that."

Chuck grimaced at the blonde's comment. He hadn't though she remembered but now it seemed like she did. It had been no big deal, really. They'd had a nighttime pool party back at Rawley, it had been a blast but when some pothead decided to hit his head on the tiled edge of the pool and almost drown, it had considerably dampened the festivities. Serena and her partner in crime Georgina had been the ones who'd unlocked the pool, apparently one of them had dated a guy on the swim team. He hadn't really planned on taking the blame, but he'd found the key when everyone was fleeing the 'scene of the crime', and when he'd overheard Serena and Sparks talking about it he'd decided he might as well. Had figured he needed a change of scenery anyway, and Bart wouldn't let him go to school in New York for the sole reason that Chuck _wanted_ to. Not that he'd gotten to transfer back to New York after he'd been kicked out of Rawley anyway; he'd been shipped over the Atlantic like a prisoner and forced to exile in Switzerland.

He offered Serena an evasive shrug, but the smile she gave him in return told him she saw right through him and knew he remembered. "So, this guy she's with?"

"Tripp. They're nothing but old friends." Serena explained, tossing a last piece of advice over her shoulder as she turned around and headed back inside. "Talk to her Chuck, she misses you."

XOXO

"Blair, are you okay?"

Blair startled in Tripp's arms, meeting his worried gaze. She tried to smile, offer him some kind of proof that she was good, but found she no longer had the energy to do so. It had been a mistake coming to the benefit. She'd barely seen Chuck all night; just enough to know that he seemed to be there without a date and looking as good as always in his tux and the expected colorful bow tie. She'd tried so hard to smile and laugh and act like seeing him didn't destroy her completely, but hours had passed and she could no longer remember why she'd been so adamant on coming there anymore.

"Blair?" Tripp's voice interrupted her inner rant one more time and she noticed that they'd stopped moving on the dance floor.

"Sorry," she offered him a bleak smile, "I'm not really feeling very well." She brought a hand up to rub at her temple tiredly. She really could feel a head ache beginning to throb.

"Come on, then, let's get you home." Tripp replied and began to lead her off the dance floor, one arm wrapped comfortingly around her waist.

"It's okay," Blair tried to object weakly, "You don't have to leave Tripp, stay and talk to your friends. I know you haven't talked to Nate in a while."

Nate and Poppy were also in attendance; Blair had offered Nate a smile that he'd returned with a relieved one in turn. She hadn't bothered looking Poppy's way. Being cordial with one of her closest friends was one thing, acknowledging that man-stealing, tacky socialite's existence with a look was a whole different story.

"If you're sure you'll be fine on your own," Tripp replied as they exited the ball room, "Let me at least get you your coat and a cab. It's the least I can do to say thanks, it's not every night I have the hottest date in the room."

Blair rolled her eyes, but he only smiled his boyish grin and winked at her. "Don't try and disagree with me, Ms. Waldorf, I'm a member of Congress - I know what I'm talking about."

"Well, do tell Congressman," Blair quipped, "On what observations do you support your statement regarding my person?"

"I don't think there's a single guy in that hasn't let his gaze linger you at least once," Tripp explained jokingly, "And then there's that guy, what's his name…Bass? He's been staring at you all night."

Blair stiffened involuntarily. She really hadn't noticed Chuck looking at her much. "He really should find more a more rewarding pastime." She said frostily, and Tripp caught the venom in her voice.

"Oh, that's right. You two used to be a thing?"

The stab of pain in her chest wasn't unexpected but highly unwelcomed. "I don't know if you could call it as much." Blair lied through her teeth. "A mistake so far in my past I can hardly remember."

The look Tripp gave her told her he didn't believe a word she said, but he didn't push the subject. Blair appreciated his tact; she doubted she'd get through a trip down memory lane at that point without losing her poorly held together composure. With a last comforting squeeze of her waist, Tripp let go of her and went to get their coats.

XOXO

He was talking to Miranda and her husband Richard when Bart walked up to them. Chuck could feel his shoulders tense up immediately, and silently cursed his own reaction. Things had definitely improved between him and his father during the last couple of weeks. They'd managed to secure the building permits for Bass Industries, and the board had agreed on Chuck's design for "the Empire". Construction would begin two months from then and everything was going according to plan.

"Bart, there you are." Miranda smiled as Bart shook hands with her husband before leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. She didn't mention anything about how he didn't bother greeting his son with more than an awkward nod; Rome wasn't built in a day after all. The two of them being in the same room, and standing next to each other at that, was more than enough to make her want to break out into a celebratory dance.

"Charles," Bart turned to his son, "Have you talked to Howard Turner about the matter we discussed earlier? I do expect more from you during an event like this than to raid the open bar."

Chuck froze. He had actually spoken to Howard Turner about the subject which Bart was referring to, the man had spent close to twenty minutes almost boring him to tears. The acidic reply was burning on his tongue, but Miranda cut in before he could speak.

"What your father meant to say, Charles-" she interjected, sending Bart a glare that had the man awkwardly shifting his weight. Had the circumstances been different Chuck would have laughed at his father's uncomfortable expression.

"…is that you've done a great job with the Empire, so far. The board is very pleased with all the hard work you've put into the project. Right, Bart?" The last part was directed at Bart, her eyes narrowing threateningly.

Bart looked annoyed for a moment, but then straightened his posture. "Yes, well-" he began, giving Chuck a brief look, "it is definitely a relief to have the project running according to schedule. It will save us a lot of money in the end."

Chuck stared at his father in barely hidden surprise, and his level of astonishment only increased when Bart offered him his hand. It took him a second or two to recover, but when he did he quickly reached out and shook it.

As they let go, a glimpse of plum colored silk caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Blair was making her way out of the ball room, that slime ball's arm wrapped around her waist. Chuck's stomach churned. No, she couldn't leave. Not yet and not with that…_No_.

"Excuse me," he said, and then walked hurriedly across the room in the direction of where Blair and her date had disappeared.

He found Blair in the lobby, alone. She noticed him immediately and when their eyes met for the second time that evening Chuck knew that he was running out of time.

"Leave me alone."

Blair's tone was weary. She couldn't fight him, she was too tired and it hurt too much.

Chuck didn't stop walking until he was right in front of her, his hand coming up to touch her but then dropping to his side. "Blair, look-" he swallowed then, trying to find the right words. "I should never have left you that night. I knew I made the wrong decision almost right away, but I was scared that if I stayed with you then you'd see..." He trailed off, unsure of how to explain the train of thought that had been racing through his mind and that _still_ haunted him every night.

"See what?"

Of course she'd demand he'd tell her, he hadn't expected any less from her.

"Me." He choked out in a barely audible whisper, and Blair shivered at the self-loathing in his voice.

"Please don't leave with him." His hand came out and closed around her wrist - carefully, pleadingly - not forceful in any way. His touch sent tingles up her arm and she knew she _wanted_ to stay. But how could she? After everything that she - _they_- had been through?

"Why? Give me a reason." She demanded, her fingers curling against her palm. She wanted so badly to reach out and touch him. Erase that look in his eyes and everything that had happened between them. Start all over again.

"Because you don't want to." Chuck replied instantly, not quite believing the boldness of his own statement and silently praying she wouldn't laugh in his face. She didn't.

"Not enough."

The sadness in her eyes was painful to see and he noticed her lip was trembling; hated himself for being the cause of it. "Because_ I_ don't want you to." He countered, and there was more force behind his words that time. He _knew_ that he didn't want her to leave.

"Not enough." She whispered again with a slight shake of her head.

Chuck began to panic. His hand tightening its grip around her wrist as he stepped closer. "What else is there?" He murmured, searching her eyes for the answer; fearing he already knew it deep down but wouldn't be able to find it in time.

Blair met his gaze, forcing away the tears that were burning in the corners of her eyes. "The real reason I should stay right where I am, and not have Tripp take me home right now."

"I…." He was choking. Suffocating on the lump in his throat and the wild panic that simmered in his gut. It couldn't be happening. He couldn't be losing her again. What did she want him to say? "I…"

He _wanted_ her, _needed_ her. Was trying so hard to be better for her, become someone who deserves her.

Blair let out a breath that sounded more like a sob and tore her wrist free of his grip, beginning to walk away from him on unsteady legs. She had to get out of there, could no longer wait around for Tripp to come back with her coat. Her heart was breaking inside her chest, beating a furious elegy against her ribcage.

_Loved_ her.

The answer struck him like lightning and Chuck jolted back to life. Goddamn, stupid _idiot_. "Wait." He threw himself after her, managing to once again catch a hold of her slender wrist. She froze at once and he could see her shoulders shaking, but she didn't turn around as he let go of her. He stepped up so that he was standing right behind her, his hands once more hovering indecisively over her lower arms before dropping to his sides. He was so close her hair was tickling his nose, and he closed his eyes as he inhaled the familiar scent. He'd missed her.

"Blair, would you turn around? Please?" He whispered into her hair, the sound of her forced breathing tearing and gnawing at him.

"Why would I do that?" She whispered, but there was fire to her words. She demanded a reason, wouldn't back down without a fight and he loved her even more for it.

"Because…" Chuck took a deep breath to steady himself. He didn't want to do this without seeing her face. The prospect of putting himself out there like that without being able to seeing her eyes was truly terrifying. But it seemed like he wouldn't get that benefit and he supposed he hadn't earned it either.

"Because I love you." He whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. He kept his eyes squeezed firmly shut, and didn't open them even when he felt her turn around. But then her hand found his and his eyes blinked open. Brown eyes wide in disbelief met his.

"What did you say?" Blair breathed, not daring to believe the words she'd thought heard come out of his mouth.

"I love you." Chuck repeated, noticing the tear tracks on her pale cheeks and reaching out to brush them away with the pad of his thumb. "I don't want you going anywhere."

"I-" Blair began, but was cut off by another voice.

"Blair?" Tripp called out quietly, walking towards the two of them with a frown on his face. "Are you alright?"

Chuck shot the man an impatient glare. "You are kind of interrupting something here," he sneered at the same time as Blair opened her mouth to speak.

"Everything's fine, Tripp. Don't worry."

Tripp looked between the both of them, but then nodded. "Okay," he said, handing Blair her coat with a last questioning look, "if you're sure?"

Blair nodded, realizing how strange the situation must look for a bystander. She managed a smile to try and ease his worries.

"Goodnight then." Tripp offered, and left with after a slight bow in her direction and a curt, warning nod in Chuck's.

Chuck watched the exchange in growing trepidation, his heart beating furiously in his chest. What happened now? Not until Blair turned back to him, her eyes brimming with fresh tears, did he dare say anything.

"Blair? What's wrong, I'm-" he choked out in alarm, but she silenced him with a finger to his lips and smiled through her tears.

"You love me," she mused; her right hand coming up to fist loosely in hair at the back of his neck. Her nails scraping against his skin sent a rush of heat through his system. Chuck could feel himself relax underneath her touch and stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"I do," he agreed, still feeling incredibly self-conscious and exposed. He was about to say something, the silence unnerving him to the extreme, but was efficiently cut off when Blair pulled his face down and kissed him. Then silence didn't feel so ominous anymore.

They kissed softly and unhurriedly - sparks slowly dancing in the air between them - and didn't pull back until they were both breathing unsteadily. The laugh that spilled from her lips when they pulled apart was the best sound Chuck had ever heard and he grinned back at her. Nothing could feel better than this.

"I love you too."

He'd been wrong.

It was possible to be happier than he had been three seconds ago. Emotion welled in his chest and he couldn't speak. So he kissed her again, pulled her closer and reveled in how well she fit against him, how easily she melted into the kiss.

Their kiss grew more heated, her arm sliding underneath his tuxedo jacket to wrap around his waist, his hand low on her back to pull her closer still. Blair let out a low sound of disappointment when he pulled back, and there was nothing that could have stopped the silly, lovesick grin from appearing on his face at that point.

"What do you say we take this elsewhere?" He suggested, biting back a groan that definitely wasn't meant to be heard in public places when her teeth scraped against the skin on his throat.

"I say; what are you waiting for, Bass?" She murmured against his skin and before she knew it Chuck was leading her in direction of the lobby in focused strides, her hand neatly secured in his. She almost had to jog to keep up, feeling like a school girl sneaking out of class, and found herself giggling as she hurried along beside him.

They rushed through the hotel's lobby and luckily enough one of the elevators was empty and waiting for them. The doors had barely closed behind them before Blair found herself pushed up against the wall of the compartment; being thoroughly and passionately kissed until stars were dancing behind her eyelids from the lack of oxygen. She kissed him back with fervor, pleased with the shiver that ran down his spine as she moved against him. His hands were everywhere, skimming over the silk of her dress and the naked expanse of her back.

The short walk from the elevator to the door felt too long; demanded too much time spent not kissing, even though it took only a few seconds in their hurried pace.

Attacking his neck with her lips and teeth, Blair chuckled at the hiss Chuck let out as she accidently slammed him back first into the door handle of his suite; the feeling of elation was over-whelming. "I'll kiss it better," she promised, moaning into the kiss when his lips found hers again and his hand came out to cup her breast. "Just get that door open, now." She reluctantly stepped back so that he could turn and pull the key card through the slot, but occupied herself with unbuttoning his shirt and pushing the jacket off his shoulders.

When Blair found herself pushed up against the door of 1812 for the second time in her life, the mood was a whole different one from what it had been all those weeks ago when she'd come to see him. But that didn't keep her spine from stiffening involuntarily as the memories came rushing back. It couldn't possibly had lasted for more than a couple of seconds, but Chuck noticed immediately; his mouth leaving hers and his hands stopping their exploration as he pulled back to look at her with worried eyes.

"Blair?"

"It's nothing," she tried, leaning in to continue the rewarding pastime of kissing him, but Chuck wasn't having any of it.

Chuck cupped a hand softly around her jaw to stop her - his thumb brushing across her lower lip - a clenching feeling in his gut as the memories came back to haunt him too. "I really am sorry." He whispered fervently, his eyes falling shut at the onslaught of painful regret. Her hand on his cheek soon caused them to snap back open; and she nodded slowly to let him know she understood.

He kissed her then, starting with a brush of lips so light it was barely there and then slowly but surely building until they were once again breathing in short gasps.

Blair felt on fire. Chuck was palming her breasts through the delicate silk of her gown, his touch sending fireworks dancing down her spine and she reached around impatiently and struggled with the zipper until the garment ended up in a pile around her feet. She was fairly sure the raw sound of approval he made at the sight of her almost naked in front of him was the best sound she'd ever heard, but quickly forgot all about sounds to the benefit of other sense as she pushed his button down shirt off his shoulders and pressed her chest against his in an attempt to get closer still.

So perfect. Mine. The words echoed in his mind, blending together with a thick cloud of _want_ and _need_ and _not soon enough_. He let his hands travel over her smooth skin, teasingly brushing against the dampened material of her underwear and swallowing her sound of need in another searing kiss. Blair responded by grinding against him, slowly driving him out of his mind with the friction she created. When her hand slipped underneath the waistband of his boxers, he had to draw from all his experience to keep it all from ending much too soon. "Bed," he panted against the column of her throat, the last part of him that wasn't occupied with the touch and feel of her contemplating how she could affect him in the way that she did.

"No," Blair objected breathlessly, hooking a leg around his waist as he tried to back away. With her leg keeping him pressed against her heat, Chuck could no longer voice a disagreement. No longer able to protest of wait any longer, he tugged her underwear down her shapely legs and hoisted her up; groaning as she wrapped her legs around him. Their cries echoed in the room as he pushed inside, sheathing himself in her wet heat. They both stilled, breathing raggedly in and out in tandem.

"You feel so good." Blair whispered and wriggled impatiently, moaning as his hips jerked in response and caused him to push further inside of her.

Chuck could literally feel his eyes roll back in his head at her words. He'd heard his fair share of dirty talk; had enjoyed parts of it and been silently horrified or amused by other parts. But nothing came close to the almost innocent praise she had bestowed him with. He somehow managed to meet her eyes and the look he found in them told him exactly how aware she was of her words effect on him. The little minx was _smiling_. It died with his first, forceful stroke, her mouth dropping open. The second one tore a cry from her lips, and the determined strokes soon turned frantic as they both forgot all about teasing and taking it slow for the sake of coiling, aching need. Chuck lips brushed against her throat, finding that spot on her neck that was just so fucking irresistible and scraped his teeth over the delicate skin. When Blair moaned in approval, he couldn't keep from moving up to first her jaw line and then her ear, nibbling just a little too roughly. He could play dirty too. "Touch yourself, movie star." He murmured huskily into her ear, a part of him sad that their position made it impossible for him to do the job himself, underlining his demand with another stroke that had her arching her back and gasping for breath. "I want to feel you come around me."

Blair nearly lost it at his whispered request, could feel the orgasm building in her abdomen. When he slowed down his trusts she sent a glare in his direction. The insufferably sexy bastard had the nerve to look amused. Narrowing her eyes in challenge, she moved her hips and watched him shudder as he struggled to keep his own impending release at bay. She waited until he lifted his gaze to meet hers before she untangled her hand from his hair and slid it down her stomach. The whimper that escaped her as she circled her swollen nub was all the encouragement Chuck needed to start moving again.

It was the hottest thing he'd seen in his life. He could feel himself coming closer and closer to the point of no return and trusting harder into her welcoming warmth. A few more strokes was all it took for her to come undone around him. Her cry and the way her walls clamped down on him had him following her off the cliff, an explosion of color behind his eyelids.

In hindsight neither of them would be able to tell how long they remained still and unmoving while their breathing and heart rates slowly settled back to normal. But eventually Chuck was forced to put Blair back down before his buckling legs went out, however reluctant he might have been to do so, pulling out of her as he did.

Blair let out a sound of protest and they were soon back to unhurried kissing as Chuck walked backwards towards the bed, pulling her with him. She followed him without a word, all of a sudden tired down to the bone from the emotional roller coaster of the night. His fingers intertwined with hers felt so _good_, and so did his skin against hers as they collapsed on the bed. She shivered, moving closer and smiled against his chest as he tried pulling the covers over them; muttering a string of curses directed at the unhelpful sheets under his breath as he did.

Finally successful, Chuck pulled her closer and wrapped an arm around her more tightly. Exhaustion was closing in on him, making his limbs heavy and he let out a deep sigh; completely basking in content.

"Am I wearing you out, Bass?"

Her voice brought him back to the present again; to her head resting against his shoulder and her fingers brushing through the hair on his chest. He managed a scoff less jokingly indignant than he'd preferred from getting his own words thrown back at him but the sound of her laughter totally made up for it.

XOXO

Blair stretched lazily - adamantly refusing to open her eyes even though she could tell that the sun was up and that it was most likely morning on the other side of her eyelids – and moved closer to the form beside her; reveling in the warmth it provided. When it stirred and an arm was wrapped around her, she barely reacted. Just as before it took her a few seconds to travel from sleep and consciousness, and to come to grips with the position she was in. As she did she neither threw herself out of the warm, comfortable bed nor froze in a panicked attempt not to wake her company up. Instead she nuzzled closer – a wave of delight washing over her - and the promise of what she would find waiting for her encouraged her to open her eyes.

Chuck watched her eyes blink open lazily and smiled as she finally managed to focus on him. Something that really shouldn't be that difficult, given that she was practically lying on top of him. She really had the most interesting way of becoming a human grapevine in her sleep. "Hey." He greeted her softly, and he knew that he was smiling like a fucking fool. And he couldn't care less.

"Good morning," Blair murmured in reply and kissed him.

The kiss was sweet and undemanding, but didn't exactly do anything to help him in his current predicament. She was lying on top of him. _Naked_. He was _human_ (and very much in love with her too, he might add) She noticed of course, pulling back with a dangerous gleam in her eyes; sleepy daze no longer traceable.

"Hm," she mused, placing another brief kiss on his lips as her hand slid down his chest. "You're _up_ early."

The witty response he had planned on died quickly as she wrapped her fingers around him. A quick, feather-light stroke, and then she stopped. The frown on his face awarded with another kiss and a highly amused and pleased look from Blair.

Deciding to play along he let his hand slide down the expanse of her back in turn and let it come to rest low on her back. Really low. Her eyes darkened and it was his turn to smile. "I could get used to waking up like this."

"Well it took you long enough to get here." She grinned, and he recognized the acceptance of his apology in her joke. Had to kiss her again because of it.

Blair let out a surprised, breathy laugh as he suddenly rolled them around so that she was trapped underneath him and pinned her arms loosely above her head. They lost a few moments to kisses that grew heated as they both became more and more aware of the way his hard-on brushed against her core. When Chuck pulled back they were both breathing a little faster and Blair shivered at the intensity in his eyes. "If you thought that was long, you have no idea what you're in for."

There was not a doubt in her mind that he was telling the truth and she understood that he wasn't just talking about then and there. That was a contract she could definitely put her signature on. Smiling, she pulled him down for another kiss to seal the deal.

Time to get down to business.

XOXO

**The End**

XOXO

* * *

_To all you readers who've been reading this fic and putting it on alert - thank you so much! You've made writing and sharing this strange little plot idea so much fun._

_To those of you who have reviewed - I can't thank you enough! You guys have made my day more times than I can count! Thank you!!! thankyouthankyouthankyou_

_A million thank you's and hugs to my lovely and amazing friend Robin for beta'ing this chapter, and most of the fic, for me. If I could come up with anything to trump the Ed pics in Arena Homme that we already have, I'd get it for you ;)_

_Oh, and Blair's dress in this chapter is one of the many dresses she tries on before the Kiss on the Lips party in season one. It really is a gorgeous dress._

_After watching 3x11 I actually thought of re-writing half the chapter only to delete Tripp completely...the S/N shipper in me hates his guts right now. But I did write this before the last epi, and I was running out of canon characters ;)_

_I'm hoping you'll leave me a review on the way out and let me now what you thought of the last chapter, or the fic in general._

_Thanks for reading!_

_Camilla_


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